Pay the Piper
by Iscah McKrae
Summary: Jess stood there inside his beloved Truncheon...stunned. He knew the moment Rory walked out that door, his life would never be the same. But, he had no idea how much it was about to change.  He heard the guys come back - heard the phone ring. "For you..."
1. Prologue: Blast From the Past, Neverfood

**_Prologue: Blast From the Past, Neverfood, and a Metaphorical Hunk of Hair_**

"You're a hard man to find." It was a woman's voice – a voice with a hard edge to it.

"Who is this?"

"I mean, I've only been trying to track you down for the last four years!"

"Who is this?" he repeated.

"Yep. My billionth Google search for Jess Mariano finally paid off! Part-owner of a bookstore – didn't think I could possibly have the right guy, but their image search sure comes in handy, you know. You may not be the only Jess Mariano in the country, but you're the only one with that scowl. Without it, the goatee and the slick straight hair…I might not have recognized you."

"Okay . . . So you like mysteries," he retorted. "I don't. So, I'm just gonna hang up now. Bye!"

"This is Shane."

**_approximately four years earlier_**

"Kiss me, and for God's sake, make it look real!" she pleaded in a whisper. It wasn't every day a guy got an order like that from a curvy blonde who was clearly dressed to kill. But, it was more than that. She needed help. No time to find out why, but this gorgeous girl was in some kind of trouble, and she desperately needed him to play along.

"Never one to abandon a damsel in distress," he said in a soft monotone with a wry smile on his face, and he pulled her close for an Oscar worthy imitation of passionate osculation. Granted, it helped that he was feeling more than a bit love-starved, and this was a good excuse to take a big, juicy bite of never-food. Might not fill you up, but at least you could pretend that it tasted good.

By the time their lips parted, she stumbled back, looking a bit dazed, almost drunk, from the heady kiss.

"Real enough?" he smirked.

"Shut up!" she whispered in a panic, eyes darting around to see how far his voice had carried.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see some sort of commotion starting near the kitchen doorway, but before he had a chance to see what was going on, her lips were on his again, and what he could feel flowing through him from the touch of her lips and tongue wasn't hormonal lust, but absolute panic. Mingled with the sweetness of her strawberry lip gloss was a briny tang, almost as if….his eyes flashed open, and he brought a hand gently up to her face, confirming that there were tears streaming down her cheeks. He would have pulled away, but she was clinging to him as if to life. He could feel sobs coursing through her body, but her kiss only intensified, intermittently holding his tongue captive with her teeth.

In a flash, their bodies were torn from one another, leaving his tongue bleeding, and something bashed him in the face, making him fall backwards with a violent collision of his ribs with the drink table, and leaving him sprawled on the floor amid plastic cups, his clothes half soaked with coke and beer. Before he could recover, a hand hoisted him up by the collar while a matching fist landed two solid punches straight to his jaw.

Blood…beer…sticky stench…asphalt. His eyes opened to a starry sky. Goosebumps raised on his skin from the night air and the cold pavement.

"Where am I?" he groaned. He was asking the sky more than anything else.

"Outside Chad's house." Her voice was sweet. He turned his head to see her – blonde curls rimmed in white moonlight. _Not too bad, as far as dreams go…got your bizarro elements, but pretty blonde and stars. Could be worse._

"The guys dragged you out here so Chad's parents wouldn't find you and freak. They're already gonna flip out over the house." _Okay. Not a dream. _It started coming back to him now. The kiss…_What the heck was that about, anyway?_

"Do you mind my asking who it was that punched me out?" Seemed the easiest route to getting answers.

"Todd."

"Todd?"

"My ex." Simple enough.

"And, we did this because…?"

"You're revenge."

"_Huh._" Something new, anyway. A distraction. Distractions were good. They kept him from doing stupid things like sitting by the telephone, or worse still, writing corny love letters that just had to be burned, which led to stupid smoke alarms…and questions. Yeah. Distractions were a good thing.

"What's your name, anyway?" he asked her.

"Shane."

**_present day_**

"What do you want!" Jess posed the question sharply.

"What?"

"Last I saw you, you wanted nothing more from me, ever. Now you tell me you've been looking for me ever since? I don't buy it! What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," Shane said.

"What?" He shook his head at what was obviously a pathetic, flimsy lie.

"I just thought you might wanna know your kid."

"My wha-?"

"Your kid," she said slowly, letting the words sink in, "yours and mine."

That's when the room started to spin. It wouldn't stop. This wasn't happening. That was a lifetime ago…ten lifetimes! He honestly hadn't given Shane a single thought from that night, standing outside the school auditorium_, You've got your stupid princess. By now, my broken Romeo is panting for me again. Go! Why should I care?_, until this telephone call. She was trying to tell him that all this time…all this time…

"Hold on - back up! That is _not_ possible!" and, if sheer volume were capable of changing facts, he would have had something there.

"You know as well as I do that it's _plenty_ possible!"

"You were _on _the pill! I _used _a condom _every _time! This could _not happen_!"

"This _did_ happen, Jess! I have the kid to prove it!"

"Kid proves _nothing!"_

"Not to you, maybe! _I_…was there. You were there. There was nobody else. Nine months later - _boom! Kid!_ Trust me, I _tried_ to convince Todd she was his! But I got big kinda fast, and she just wasn't born tiny enough, and he's no genius, but he's not _that_ bad at math!"

A continuous high pitched squeal filled the canals of Jess' ears, and the whole room tipped sideways. He caught himself on the edge of the desk. _Geez! If this room doesn't stop its gyrations, I'm gonna puke, right here, right now! I need a paper bag. In the movies they always have a paper bag to breathe into. Is it supposed to help them breathe somehow…better, or is it just something to puke into when the bag stops working? Legs not working so good. There must be a freakin' chair somewhere in this stupid room, but it keeps swirling around so bad I can't find the freakin' thing! Hands - stop it! I haven't lit up in two years, and I'm not about to start again just because of your asinine shaking…_

"…but they told me she was my responsibility to begin with, and dropped her back in my lap again. I told them they wouldn't have had to deal with her at all if they'd let me have the abortion in the first place, but they wouldn't listen, as usual. And, Todd says that if I don't get rid of her this time, that he's gonna leave all over again. It would only be the third time he's left me. Jerk." He wasn't sure how long she'd been talking when his ears started working again. He tried to process some of the words.

"You….you said 'she'?" he said slowly.

"Have you heard a single word I just said?" she asked incredulously.

"Some of it." What little he heard, made him feel even sicker, if that was possible. "Lemme see if I got this straight," he said, piecing the fragments together, "We have a daughter . . . and, you want me to take her."

"That's the short version."

"But, pretty well sums it up?"

"Sure." One word. The course of a little girl's life hung on one word. Jess drew a shaky breath.

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"You're telling me I'm a father. I'm not running away." History was not going to repeat itself this time. He might be a little late for the cigar, but he wasn't about to live Jimmy's life all over again. And this kid wasn't getting stuck with Liz 2.0. Just not happening. "But it has to be full custody," he said, when his mouth caught up to his brain. "That's the only way this is gonna work."

"What? Do you think that I'm so terrible that you have to keep her away from me?"

"It's not that. I just don't want you wanting her back, and then not wanting her anymore, and then wanting her again, until the poor kid's a ping-pong ball! Geez! I can't even remember how many friends, relatives, and foster parents I wound up with when the state came and took me away, or when my mom couldn't 'deal with my behavior' – which, by the way, was code for 'she was totally wasted, and I kept getting in the way of her next fix.' _I know_. You don't need a blow-by-blow of my childhood, but I can tell you that if I have _anything_ to do with it, it's not gonna be repeated with _my_ kid!"

"I'm not some sort of druggie that you have to protect her from. I'm just not cut out for the _mommy! mommy!_ bit. I have a life. But I don't want you cutting her off from me forever either!"

"I'm not saying that you couldn't see her. But, you tell me that you don't want her. Fine. No kid should have to grow up with someone who doesn't want them. I should know. That was my _entire_ childhood. So, you want me to take her. That's fine. I wasn't expecting to have a kid…probably ever, but if she's mine, then I want her, and I'll love her."

"Fine. That's great! When can you come get her?"

"Wow…" Jess still couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. Even Liz _pretended_ that she wanted her kid. "Um…" Their apartment was no place for a kid to live – especially a girl. Lawyers were inevitably going to be involved in this, and he was sure the state wouldn't look kindly on a three-year-old girl living with three men in a cruddy hole of an apartment above a bookstore. "I'm gonna have to make some arrangements and I'm not sure how long that's gonna take."

"Great!" Shane spat. "Backpedaling already! I should've expected it."

"This is not backpedaling," Jess responded with restraint. He had to keep this from getting ugly. He carefully kept his voice on an even keel. "Look – you just threw me the curveball of a lifetime. It's gonna take a little while to get things in order. You know, make sure she has the kind of home a kid should have."

"Well, don't take too long."

**_afterward_**

Jess was pretty sure that life hated him. Scratch that. Jess knew that for some unknown reason life had carried some kind of a grudge against him from the day he was born, and had been meting out its _revenge_ in steady increments ever since.

Rory. Sweet Rory. Rory who had lost all of her Roryness in some sick, sick Yale cretin whom she was _in love with_, despite the fact that he…_yeah._

And Shane. Oh boy, was that a blast from the past! Poor messed up Shane whom he had probably messed up even more in an idiotic attempt to be a nice guy which wound up in him being a total jerk!

Rory and Shane in one day!

Oh, and lest we forget – they have now begun to pale in significance. There was a third girl in this equation, destined to become the most important girl in his young life.

Then it hit him. This kid. This girl. _She's my daughter for Pete's sake! . . . And I don't even know her name..._

It was a knife in his gut; the last final proof that he was the worst human being ever to crawl the planet. He was the father of a three-year-old girl, and he didn't even know her name.

**_later_**

"You didn't tell me her name." It sounded lame and accusatory, and he fully expected her to throw back, "_You didn't ask!"_ but maybe that was just because…

"You didn't ask!" …there it was.

"Well, I'm asking."

"Her name is Jessica," she said matter-of-factly. _Did that sound like sheer lunacy to anyone else?_

"_Why?" _he asked, drawing out the question to its full _had you gone mad?_potential.

"For the irony of it," she said, fairly dripping acid. "Y'know. You were supposed to be temporary. You were supposed to be the most temporary, here today, gone tomorrow, non-relationship, I-barely-know-the-guy, quote-unquote boyfriend of all time. And here, I got stuck with the most permanent reminder of your existence in the whole freakin' world. So, in honor of all that – I named her Jessica."

For the first time since this crazy day started, or week, or year, or whatever, laughter began to take hold of Jess in a way he couldn't control. Totally inappropriate? Probably. But, since when did Jess laugh at things that people found appropriate to laugh at? And, crazier still, he couldn't stop.

"_Nice,"_ Shane snapped, icily. This just made it worse.

In amongst the laughter, he managed an, "I'm sorry…no, really…not funny…so…not funny….ironic….ironic as….well, I'm not sure if I've ever heard anything quite that ironic before...but not funny."

"_So…"_

"So….Jessica….it really shouldn't be funny….middle name?"

**_later still_**

"Luke's Diner—"

"Luke!" he began brightly.

"Jess! Good to hear from you – really good, especially so soon – I mean, we just saw you, and now…" Luke let the sentence finish itself.

"Yeah…yeah…great…"

"So, everything is great?" Luke pinned the question in the air.

"Uh…so, Luke, I called to tell you something. Uh…" The brightness flickered…

"Somethin' wrong?"

"Well…" sputtered…

"Are you in some kinda trouble?" _Ah, how the mighty have fallen. A few short days ago, Luke had been so proud of him._

Snuffed.

"Yes…no…sort of." He abruptly changed tack, trying to lighten his tone again, "Luke, you remember, not so…long ago, when a kid came into your diner, grabbed a hunk of your hair, and told you that you might be her dad? You _probably_ felt like…you…might be…in some kind of trouble. I'm guessing." Jess held his breath.

"Jess. What are you trying to say?" His tone was wary and abrupt. Jess spoke softly.

"Exactly what you think I'm trying to say."

"Some kid's got a hunk of your hair?"

"Metaphorically speaking."

"Let's skip the metaphors," tensely. Jess took a deep breath.

"Okay. Uncle Luke, I have a kid. She's tree years old." There was a medium-to-longish pause following this statement.

"You'll have to pardon me…but I'm not finding a mathematical correlation to a three-year-old kid that's making _any_ sense to me." _Sorry, Luke…yeah, this happened on your watch._ Jess knew that had to kill him.

"She's Shane's." Jess threw that one out there and left it.

"Shane's….." Luke's voice didn't indicate recognition.

"The blonde you insisted I should know the last name of. The one I _shouldn't _treat like dirt."

"Oh, my god," quietly, in horror.

"Yeah. Pretty much my reaction." Luke processed for a moment.

"So…after you and Rory…she…?"

"Moved."

"And…"

"Evidently, had my baby."

"And she never…"

"Nope."

"Wow."

"Yup." After this bomb had detonated, Jess let the aftershocks sink in a bit before continuing. "Hey…I'm really not ready for this to be common knowledge, so…"

"I won't say anything," Luke assured him, leaving the standard fill-in-the-blanks portion of their conversation behind. "You'll have to handle that in your own time. If I'm not being too nosey, who have you told?"

"You're the first to know."

"Really?"

"I…kinda wanted to ask for your advice." _Man! That was hard to say._

"Right…been-there-done-that-got-the-t-shirt, now I can help you… Well, obviously you're gonna want some contact. Every kid needs a dad."

"Uh…that's not _really_ the issue."

"What do you mean?"

How could he say the words? Through a slightly clenched jaw seemed to be the only way.

"Shane doesn't want her."

"_What?_"

"Shane doesn't want her. She's got a …._life._ And….the boyfriend whom I helped her to get back – don't ask – just, frankly, isn't _into_ kids. And, let's face it – neither is Shane."

"She doesn't want her own daughter?"

"Yeah…makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn't it?"

"_Unbelievable!"_

"So. I've got a kid."

"You mean you've got her – with you – now?"

"No….haven't gotten that far yet. But…somehow I will. That's the part I'm trying to figure out."

"What do you mean?"

"The legal stuff – paternal rights – proof of paternity – custody stuff. This is all new to me."

"Well, yeah…" Luke sighed. "I don't exactly know about that stuff…I mean - there was the whole DNA test science fair project…thing…..but I don't know if you have to prove anything. I mean, if this Shane is giving you the kid, and she's your kid… I don't really know if you need a lot of legal mumbo jumbo. You might."

"For doctors and schools and stuff…"

"Yeah…true…true…..," Luke said sadly. Jess knew how bad Mr. Fix-It felt when he didn't have the right tools to fix you, so he let him off the hook.

"Well," Jess told himself, "as with all things in life…Google is your friend."

"Huh?" He'd almost forgotten how technophobic Luke was until this syllable.

"Nothing," he laughed. "Just hafta do a bunch of research, I guess."

"Y'know…" Luke began, "I still have a number for Nicole." Jess couldn't believe Luke would even consider subjecting himself to dialogue with his lawyer ex-wife.

"No, Luke."

"She'd know about this stuff," he offered.

"_No_, Luke."

"I'm sure she could-"

"She could claw your guts out with a fork." That woman scared Jess.

"It wouldn't be that bad."

"How many times do I hafta say no? I'll figure it out!" Jess said forcefully. "I will not let you offer yourself up as a human sacrifice to the dragon lady on my account." Luke sighed.

"Jess…"

"It's the official term for ex-wives everywhere."

"_Jess!_"

"Yeah…"

"Are you ready for this?" The tone of Luke's voice told him they weren't talking about lawyers or paperwork anymore.

"Luke, were you ready? When Lizzy sent me packing and told you it was your turn to babysit, were _you_ ready? Or did you just dive in?"

"I dove. And, we all know how well that turned out."

"You did fine!" He could hear a sort of "hmph" over the line. "You were exactly what I needed, Luke. I was a punk. I hated authority – _especially_ your authority. But I needed it….Luke…you put me on the path that made me who I am."

"By kickin' you out." It was a question and a statement.

"_I_ would have kicked me out! There were things I needed to learn…things I needed to learn the _hard way_…'cause that's _how I learn._" Luke didn't answer. "You did it right!" Silence. "I'm good…everything is…" Jess shrugged and wished the gesture could be heard over the telephone lines.

"So, you're gonna dive in?"

"I'm gonna dive in."

"You'll do fine."

"I'll screw it up like I do everything else…but hopefully less than it would be screwed up if I didn't."

"Makes perfect sense."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Luke stood, silently nodding. "You know, Jess…if you need anything…"

"I know."


	2. Chapter 1  No Muss, No Fuss

_1. No Muss, No Fuss_

Jess pulled his old clunker up to the curb between the four hour parking signs. He'd driven around the block four times, ascertaining that the address Shane had given him had to be somewhere in this quaint, quirky square, all brickwork and cobblestone. Getting out of the car and looking around, he smirked. _Toto, I don't think we're in Hartford anymore._ The stately, dignified city, hometown of Samuel Clemens, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Katherine Hepburn, surely should have eschewed such an upstart from its hallowed grounds. The thought amused him.

He made his way around the fountains and modern art sculptures into the heart of the square. There was a deli on each side of the square, each with umbrella adorned outdoor tables, and at this time of the morning their pumpernickel and pastrami shouldn't have been making him hungry. Along with the aromas wafting out of the delicatessen on the right, whose counter opened to the square, came the deep baritone of what he had to assume was the proprietor - no employee would be granted such liberties - belting out some lively Italian song that was either opera, or the guy's voice made it sound like opera.

Kitty-corner, there was an upscale looking salon, across a small alleyway, a sinister/cool looking entrance to a place called "The Dungeon" which, on closer inspection, he noted was a skateboard shop. _Flashbacks of Cali._ It shared a building with a trendy teen girls' fashion boutique. Next to this was a smoothie place. Frankly, he could have visualized Shane working in any of these places. None matched the address though. He shrugged and walked into the board shop.

The boards all over the walls bore pictures that well fit a place called The Dungeon. Behind the counter, was a guy about nineteen, spiked blond hair and one gauged ear. A screamer band's music blared quietly from his headphones, and he was absorbed in mock-head banging with his eyes closed. Jess smirked.

"'Scuse me?" The guy looked up and pulled the headphones down around his neck.

"Yeah, man. Sorry. What can I do for you?"

"Do you know this address?" he asked, holding out the paper he'd written it down on. "Girl named Shane works there."

"Shane…" the guy nodded slowly with a glint in his eye and a knowing smile. Jess laughed on the inside. _Wonder if Todd knows about this guy._ "Yeah, right over there, man. I think she's workin' today," he said pointing out the door and to the right. Jess frowned, wondering how he'd missed it.

"I'm sorry. Where…exactly?"

"Right there, man. The alley." That was how.

"Thanks."

He turned right coming out of the doorway, facing the alley. An ornate chalkboard sign stood by a door in the alley.

"Fallen Angel Tattoo and Body Piercing Studio"

_Of course. _Jess shook his head with a sad chuckle as he looked up at the sign. _I'm picking my kid up from a tattoo parlor. That's just…_his hand made an "a-okay" gesture to finish the thought. Then came, unbidden, a thousand memories of the places he'd been with Liz growing up - _This could be so much worse - _and mentally cut Shane a little slack.

At least it was a nice neighborhood. Very nice, actually. If he could have put this square in Philly, and inserted Truncheon somewhere inside it, he would have done it in a heartbeat. The cobblestones themselves fairly screamed books. It was a shame there was no bookstore there.

As his mind harkened back to the reason he was here, the hunger in his stomach turned to vague pit-of-the-stomach half-nausea. He took in a deep breath of the cool morning air. It helped. He set his shoulders squarely…and went in.

A small bell heralded his entry, and Shane's head snapped up. She stood behind the glass counter, which functioned as a display case for belly-button rings, etc. She looked the same. Large, dewy blue eyes, full, sensual lips, soft yellow curls - just the same. He should have known as much from the look in dungeon-guy's eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey." They'd never been much for small talk in person.

"So…"

"So?"

"Paperwork?"

"Yeah." He pulled out the papers he'd carefully stowed in his bag where they wouldn't get crumpled. "Here." She took them with a quizzical look.

"It basically just says that Jessica will live with me, permanently - that I can enroll her in school and make medical decisions without having to check with you. And, if you wanna come visit, give me a call and we'll make it happen."

"That simple?"

"That simple. Read it if you like. Sign and date both copies. I already have. You keep one, I keep one. Hopefully that means we'll never have to set foot in a courtroom about any of this," he said carefully, trying to keep everything as non-threatening as possible. Couldn't take a chance on spooking her. Shane gave a sigh of relief.

"Sounds good to me. Got a pen?"

"Right here." He handed her one from his pocket. She took off the lid with her teeth, and held it there while she used the glass countertop to scribble her signature and the date on both papers.

"Wow. Painless…I thought for sure you'd hire some hot-shot lawyer and get out the thumb screws."

"What for?" he shrugged, "We want the same thing for our daughter. Nothin' to argue about."

"That's right," she smiled as if the weight of the world was off her shoulders. Shane always did like the easy way out.

"Got the birth certificate?" _One last hurdle._

"Yeah…right here." She pulled a purple folder out from behind the counter. Jess opened it, and did a double take. Well, that would certainly make matters easier, but, why would? Because from the beginning, Shane had wanted to make this easier. He shook his head and chuckled sadly. Name of child: Jessica Alyssa Mariano.

"You gave her my last name?" incredulously.

"Seemed the thing to do." _In what universe?_

"You _gave_ her….._my_…last name?"

"No muss, no fuss."

Jess let out a low whistle. Shane looked at him awkwardly for a moment, and then around the room, and finally…

"Okay…I'll go get her."

"'Kay."

Shane disappeared into the back. Jess' eyes scanned the walls…scanned Shane's artwork. It was elaborate, pretty, grotesque. She obviously had an eye for complex patterns, flowing lines. Like most tattoos, there were lots of roses and sculls, plenty of flames. The one that caught his eye was a pattern with friendly looking green aliens lounging under colorful mushrooms playing electric guitars. Either Shane had a better imagination than he'd given her credit for, or . . . he tried not to think about that.

Jess flinched back to reality as Shane's clicking heels signaled their approach. He watched as his little girl's face appeared from the shadows. She seemed tiny for three…but somehow also far too old. Soft yellow curls framed sharp, dark eyes, large and wary. She wore jeans and a pink t-shirt that looked a little too small. She clutched a naked baby doll with matted hair so tightly that her little knuckles were white.

"See, Jessie? Your daddy's here to pick you up!" Shane said with a sugary sort of glee that struck a dissonant chord with Jess. He hoped it was his own cynicism that made the words sound like she was _that happy_ to see her daughter go.

He crouched down to her height, but not too close. He dreaded seeming imposing or invasive. As he looked at the deep brown eyes that wouldn't meet his for more than a fraction of a second at a time, a small, sweet smile crept to his lips. As he tried to speak, he felt his pulse begin to race, and his breath suddenly turn jagged. He swallowed slowly and took a deep breath as quietly as he could, lest his own nervousness unnerve her still further. Finally, he was able to collect himself. He spoke gently.

"Hi, Jessica…" She was so beautiful. "My name is Jess." Could she possibly, really be his? "I'm your dad."

She had stopped blinking…stopped moving entirely, eyes frozen on the floor, statue-like. After a few of the longest seconds of Jess' life, Shane broke the silence with a laugh.

"She's just playing shy. Don't worry about it. You'll be buds in no time!" she said nonchalantly. She gave the little girl's shoulder a slight shove. "Hey! Knock it off, silly girl!"

Jess' heart suddenly stung for the little girl – _his_ little girl. She wasn't "playing shy." Playing shy was a kid hiding behind their mom with an uncomfortable whine, or burying their face in her leg momentarily before batting their eyes at a stranger. This was cold, unvarnished fear. Shane played it off as if it was nothing.

"It's time to go with your daddy now," she announced. "You're gonna have so much fun!" Shane looked up at Jess and shrugged. "You might have to carry her," she said matter-of-factly.

_I will NOT drag her out of here!_ Jess thought in a panic, his pulse starting to pound again. Shane unceremoniously picked the little girl up and placed her in Jess' arms, which suddenly felt so weak he was terrified he might drop this precious feather. _My child in my arms. My little girl. Not possible._ He swallowed hard and steadied his breathing again. He tried to smile and failed.

"Who's this?" he asked Jessica, pointing to her dolly. The little girl fingered the doll, as if entranced, and began to hum. Jess felt himself wildly wondering if children ever had nervous breakdowns, and if they did, how could you tell?

"That's Annie," Shane answered for her. "She goes with her _everywhere_! – think 'blanky.'" Once again – not a hint of worry in her voice. _Maybe I'm overreacting._

"Huh." Jess stood there, realizing Shane expected him to just take the small overnight bag she held, and walk out the door. This was it. "So, um…is there anything I should know about? Allergies, or medicines, or…anything?"

"Nope. She's good," she said lightly. "See ya!" _Unbelievable._

"A kiss goodbye might be nice…" It was all he could do to keep the anger out of his voice on that one. _Keep it cool. Keep it friendly._ The _are you out of your mind?_ Expression on her face puzzled him for a moment until…

"Not _me!_…_her!"_ he specified. _Of all the…_

"Oh, right…sure." And she circled behind him to face the little girl with a smile. "Bye, Baby…you be a good girl for your daddy, okay?" And she kissed Jessica's cheek blithely, as if she were going to be gone for the afternoon. Jess took the overnight bag. It was time to go. His jaw clenched and he forced some semblance of a smile, nodding his head to Shane.

"Have a nice life."

He expected Jessica to cry…to struggle…to scream for her mother…to do something – but as he carried her out the glass door, out into the square, down the block to the rattle-trap car…the girl's eyes never left her doll, her little body unsquirming, her pink lips silent. He awkwardly buckled her into the child seat around Annie, tugged and adjusted here and there, nearly tangling himself into the straps along with her. The process took no less than four minutes. Checking to see that she was tucked well within the safety zone, he closed her door, wishing silently that the heavy doors didn't have to be slammed. He went to his side, got in and started the rumbling motor, but didn't pull away.

He looked over at the placid pink bundle in the passenger's seat. Jessica sat, smoothing the doll's red, matted hair. _Her fingers were so tiny._ Again, she began to hum. A large lump rose in Jess' throat, threatening to choke him. He wanted to cry for her. He wanted to scream for her. He wanted to break free and run for her back into the arms of the mother that Shane should have been! _She doesn't deserve this._

He felt his head thud into the hard plastic of the steering wheel – the wheel his hands gripped ever tighter until they shook. Again with the jagged breath. _Calm. Calm. Don't freak her out. Make her feel safe._ He smothered the dozen curses that threatened to escape his lips and blinked away the stinging tears he wouldn't allow his eyes to shed. _Deep breath… Again... Let it out…In…Out…_

He sat back with a squawk of the vinyl seat, and pulled away from the curb.


	3. Chapter 2 Buster Keaton and the Importan

_2. Buster Keaton and the Importance of Whipped Cream_

The miles slipped by quickly…back to Philly…back to sanity. _Please God, whoever you are… _An hour went by, and another. They were somewhere in New York, in a town he'd driven through once or twice. He pulled up in front of a café, knowing that if he didn't get some coffee into his system, he might not make it back to Philly.

"You hungry?" He looked over at Jessica, who returned his glance briefly before turning to stare out the window at the passing cars. "Okay…" Jess sighed and went around to her side of the car, unbuckling the child seat and lifting her to the sidewalk. He took her hand, surprised at how meekly she complied with the gesture…still surprised at how tiny it was in his own. _Deep breath._

They went into the café and took a table by the window. The aroma of coffee and bacon made Jess' stomach rumble, as he pushed back unbidden memories of Luke's. Looking across the table, he saw Jessica's eyes and nose just above its surface, and chided himself silently.

A twenty-something waitress stepped up to the table, red hair back in a ponytail that reminded Jess of where the hairstyle got its name.

"What can I get for you two?" she asked in a sunshine voice. She had a genuine smile to match, teeth railroaded in silver braces with bright blue rubber bands.

"You like hot chocolate?" Jess asked the little girl with a smile. She looked directly in his eyes for once, but neither spoke, nodded, nor shook her head. Jess shrugged and turned back to the waitress. "Well, for starters, we'll have one hot chocolate, not too hot, with as much whipped cream as you can possibly get on it, one black coffee, and one booster seat, if you got one."

"Coming right up!" She winked at Jessica and was gone for all of ten seconds before returning, orange booster seat in hand. Jess hopped up and scooped Jessica up with an "Alley-oop!" and back down onto the bumpy plastic seat as soon as it was in place. She returned a minute later with a steaming mug of coffee, which she placed in front of Jess, and a cup with the tallest tower of whipped cream Jess had seen in his life, set before Jessica. Jess had hoped her eyes would at least widen…they didn't, but they also didn't leave the hot chocolate for a moment. The waitress stooped to smile conspiratorially at Jessica.

"I sure wish I could spend the afternoon with _my _dad. Especially if he let me have extra whipped cream!" she winked at Jess this time.

"Well…I'm tryin' to get into her good books," he grinned.

"Hey, everybody knows that the way to a woman's heart is through her sweet tooth!" she nodded at his great wisdom.

"Good to know. Never was much good with a woman's heart, but I remember what it was like to be a kid – and the importance of whipped cream," his eyes narrowed, underlining the sacredness of the substance.

"Point taken," she conceded amiably. "What else can I get for you this afternoon?"

"Mmm…I'll have a cheeseburger and fries, and what can you suggest for Buster Keaton over here? I'm afraid my ingenuity only got me as far as hot chocolate." He smiled, seeing Jessica carefully spooning whipped cream into her mouth. He ignored the hot chocolate dribbling all over the table. No…truthfully, that made him smile too.

"Well, chicken nuggets are usually a good bet," she offered.

"Then chicken nuggets it is," he said, handing the menu back to the waitress, noting that her name tag read: Tammy. Jessica was now down to the hot chocolate, and slurping it one spoonful at a time. Jess stretched in his seat and looked around the café. It was of the plastic-covered, red-checked tablecloth variety, a little run down, but only to the degree of making one comfortable with its unpretentiousness. The specials were scribbled on the windows in bright colors, and he absently read them backwards. He could almost pretend this was normal. The waitress had guessed she was his daughter. _Why wouldn't she? Pretty safe guess._

In no time at all, the cheeseburger, fries and chicken nuggets were on the table. Jess thanked Tammy and started to eat.

He wished he could figure out his next move. What? Take this silent creature back to the apartment? The blank white apartment that could only boast a child's bed he'd found at a yard sale in one corner, _thank goodness it had drawers,_ along with a two foot shelf, and in the other corner, a card table and a twin mattress on the floor surrounded by stacks and stacks of books. At this rate, they'd get there by three in the afternoon. Then what?

He glanced across the table and realized Jessica hadn't touched her chicken nuggets, though she'd scraped the mug of any vestige of chocolate.

"Don't like chicken?" he ventured. She folded her hands on the table in front of her, looking down at them nervously. "That's okay…want a French fry?" he held one out to her. Her eyes wandered the room. "Hamburger, maybe? …I can order you one of your own…pickle?" He sighed at her complete lack of response. After waiting a moment, he picked up one of her chicken nuggets and held it close to her mouth. She quickly leaned back and frowned. At least it was a response. "All right. You can feed yourself – I get it." Jess finished off the last couple bites of cheeseburger, the fries, the pickle, and chugged down the refill of coffee Tammy had brought him. The little girl just sat. "Not hungry, I guess?" he paused. "Well, we'll bag it up in case you're hungry later." He flagged down Tammy on her way past. "Could we get a bag for this?"

"Sure thing…Buster not too fond of nuggets after all?"

"Guess not," he shrugged. She tilted her head and gave Jessica an _I tried_ half smile. "By the way," he asked her, "where would I find the nearest bookstore?"

"Hmm…let me see. I think there's one around the corner and down a block or two…Yeah. Hang a left coming out of the parking lot. Turn left on Jefferson, and it should be a block or so down, across from the bank…Chesterford…or Chesterfield…or Chester-something-or-other Books."

"Thanks," he smiled. He left a tip on the table and settled up at the register a few feet away. "All right, kiddo. Let's get outta here." he said, extricating her from the booster seat. He tipped a last nod to Tammy, holding onto Jessica with one hand, gripping the to-go bag and pushing the door open with the other.

"Have a great day!"

"You too."


	4. Chapter 3 Shop Around the Corner or Wher

**A/N:** This chapter is not yet complete, but is my favorite so far - I think you'll understand why. Since all of you have been so patiently awaiting an update, I thought I would post this chapter in two parts, giving you the first part to enjoy while I struggle with the last piece of the puzzle that's keeping me from completing the second part. Let me know what you think.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own, or claim to have invented Jess, Shane, Luke, Rory or any other characters from Gilmore Girls which may be mentioned in this story. Jessica, Tammy and Lisette are all mine.

_3. Shop Around the Corner or Where Jane Goes, Emily and Charlotte Follow_

Now, ideally Jess would have recreated _Shop Around the Corner_ to its exact specifications, minus the exorbitant prices, and the story lady would have been visiting that day. But, _Chesterfield Books_ with its _surprise, surprise _large comfortable couches, and lit faux fireplace, was a homey alternative. Jess was also relieved that it wasn't a place where the owner or desk clerk rushed to your side, falling all over themselves to be helpful. He'd always found that a trifle nerve wracking, and was pleased that they were left to browse in peace.

They did have a wonderful selection. New and used books filled the shelves, and it had the smell a bookstore ought to have, in Jess' opinion; some mixture of freshly printed paper, with leather, pipe tobacco and cigars, dust, and even the faintest hint of mildew. It might sound strange to someone unfamiliar with the magic of really old books, but it was the smell of the only genuine home, in the most complete sense of the word, that Jess had ever known.

As he walked down the rows of shelves, he ran his fingertips across the spines of the beloved books, savoring their texture. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jessica whom he held in the crook of his left arm, reach out tentatively with one tiny finger, as if timidly asking permission to touch too. A smile filled his eyes. _We might actually be related after all._

"It's okay," he whispered to her, "You can touch them." But instead, she pulled her hand back quickly, almost as though she'd put the little finger on something that was too hot. He smiled sadly, but, somehow, understood. It would take time.

Walking down the aisle of books closest to the front desk, he spotted a silver haired woman with silver, round spectacles - somehow, the way they looked on her, you couldn't call them glasses - sitting behind the desk, reading. She glanced up, and her pale blue eyes followed them for a moment before returning to her book. Something about her made Jess do a double-take. She could feel his eyes on her, and looked up again.

"Just let me know if there's anything I can help you with." Jess bobbed his head in polite quasi-reply, and instinctively made his way down the aisle a little quicker. But, a moment later, as he turned to go down the next aisle, he poked his head around in her direction.

"Actually…" he requested, "Could you point me in the direction of the children's section?" As much as he was enjoying himself, he was on a mission.

"Better yet," she said with a small, serene sort of smile, setting her book to one side, "I'll take you there," and she came around, walking almost silently, as if she floated, first toward them, and then off, presumably in the direction of children's books.

"Guess we'd better follow the book angel," he whispered to Jessica.

As they passed a large display of Dickens, Jess paused without meaning to. His eyes fell on a particular volume, and he cursed himself silently for having stopped.

"A friend of Charlie's?" the book angel queried, having stopped when he did. Jess' eyebrows raised for a moment before comprehending.

"Bit of a love/hate relationship, actually," he admitted. "His descriptions can get a bit tedious."

"Not compared to Hugo's," she stated simply.

"Ah, but his had a purpose."

"Conceded." And they continued on their way in companionable silence. He had to hand it to someone who peacefully refused to be baited, while betraying in the eyes that they were equal to debate.

"Huh," softly, and with a quick wink to Jessica as they walked along. He was sure the little girl had no idea what to make of all this, but it was his way of introducing her to his world.

He tried to follow, he really did, but when he nearly passed an equally impressive display of Hemmingway, he came to a dead halt.

"Ernie and I go _way_ back…" not bothering to wait for the question. The book angel smiled.

"Catherine or Brett?" was all she asked. His eyes widened and he looked her full in the face, momentarily.

"It's possible to choose?" incredulously. She shrugged, again conceding the point. It shortly became clear to her that continuing on their way was a lost cause, and that further questioning would be an intrusion into the private world Jess had entered. So she turned to Jessica with a smile.

"What's your name" she asked the little girl, but was met only with the large, hesitant, brown saucers shining back at her. Jess emerged reluctantly, realizing the book angel would get no further with this line of inquiry.

"She's," Jess began, realizing he didn't know how to finish. She was, what? Shy? Not good with strangers? Had some sort of speech impediment? If he knew the answers to these questions himself, he wouldn't be having so much difficulty. He smiled to himself, mentally amending his statement. "She's quiet - kinda like I was at her age." It was true…or so he had been told.

"Only at her age?" The question was put kindly.

"I have my moments." The silence that ensued was pleasant, but Jess didn't know how to break it, and felt like he would be rude if he just turned and immersed himself in Hemmingway again, no matter how much he wanted to see if they had any older editions of his favorites.

"Do you have a name…or should I just keep calling you 'the book angel'?"

A smile spread across the woman's face, but all she said was, "Keep?"

"I suppose I'm the only one who names people in their mind. So, now you may forever catalog me as the psychopath with the crazy imaginary names." He almost wished he could unsay the last part. He really didn't want this woman to think any less of him.

"I like 'Book Angel'," she said softly. "Though, perhaps that's because when I was young, I fancied myself Freckles' Swamp Angel. He made up names too."

Jess wasn't quite sure what to say, partially because he hated to admit to missing a literary reference - especially one which seemed to fit the situation so perfectly.

"Don't worry. He'll forgive you for not knowing his." _How did she do that?_ "My name is Lisette," the older woman smiled, extending her hand to him cordially. He was still marveling, but responded in kind.

"Jess. Jess Mariano, and this is my daughter, Jessica." He heard his own voice say the words. It should have sounded much stranger. It should have been hard to say…hard to believe…_my daughter._

"Named after her dad, no doubt," she said, looking at Jessica with a twinkle in her eye, and then back to Jess.

"Yup." He looked at the little golden haired girl and a sudden warmth came over him. For the first time, he was strangely glad she had his name…both of them.

A stray thought struck his funny bone. Maybe now Matt and Chris would quit teasingly calling him "Jessie" . . . if only to keep from scrambling their own brains.

"So, Lisette," he told her, "I was thinking that it's high time I started building Jessica a decent library. I was thinking Beatrix Potter, A. A. Milne, Lewis Carol, L. Frank Baum, (wind in the willows), Arabian Nights, maybe Aesop's Fables - Grimm gets a little too grim, so moderation there. Seuss can be fun, unless I have a headache. What else should I really not miss?"

"Well, continuing in the same vein, I'd say Rudyard Kipling's _Just So Stories_ shouldn't be skipped. And, I think you should consider Laura Ingalls Wilder and Frances Hodgson Burnett. And, for when she's a little older, Lucy Maud Montgomery and Louisa May Alcott are a must. No girl should grow up without them." she insisted. Jess tilted his head and nodded slowly in consideration.

"That path leads directly to Jane Austen, which I know is inevitable, eventually, and of course, where Jane goes, Emily and Charlotte follow - and I can't say I object, as long as it's counterbalanced by Mark Twain…Jack London…"

"Well, if Austen is entering the conversation, which, you're absolutely right, she will, regardless, you have to realize that she brings Shakespeare into the picture, tangentally, but just as inevitably."

"True. And that can only lead to Keats and Tennyson, which again…fine as long as you don't leave out Thoreau."

"Only if you want to throw in Emerson and Milton, because they're coming along for the ride," she warned him. Jess laughed.

"Well, at that point, she doesn't need her own library, she can dive into mine, and when she's through with that, I can just turn over my entire bookstore to her, and let her revel to her heart's content!" he countered, well pleased with the thought.

"Bookstore!" Lisette was clearly stunned, and that pleased Jess too. "You have a bookstore? Then…what are you doing here?"

"Oh, and you're telling me, this is the only bookstore _you_ ever go into?" he said, disbelievingly.

"You're quite right," she laughed, "You've shown me my own hypocrisy."

"Well…truth be told, we might not have stopped here today if my bookstore had a decent children's selection. We're still new."

"Well, what is the name of your bookstore?" she asked, eagerly, "I'll have to make a point of going there to return the favor and to indelibly confirm my hypocrisy."

"Not hypocrisy! Addiction! I've never met a decent writer or bookstore owner who wasn't completely and unabashedly addicted to books, libraries, and other bookstores!"

"You know," she said, "I quite like you, Jess Mariano!"

"Then, I'm not sure if you should come after all," he shook his head. "I make a lousy second impression."

"I don't believe it!" she said, decidedly, her smile dimpling.

"Well…come at your own risk," he told her with a twinkle in his eye.

"How can I? You still haven't given me a name or an address!"

"Right," he said, setting Jessica on her feet so he could pull out his wallet, and out of it, one of the Truncheon cards that had been made up specially for the grand opening. "I realize it's quite a jaunt. I'm out of my way today to pick up my girl from her mom's." With a pang, he realized that sounded natural too - and he hated it. But, Lisette didn't bat an eyelash. Why should she?

"Well, I'll just have to go a bit out of my way to visit this…" she looked at the card, "Truncheon of yours," she said with a decided nod, then looked quickly back at the card. "You publish too?" Jess nodded.

"Can't say which is the sideline. Publishing came from writing, and the bookstore came because…how could we not?" he grinned. Lisette took a step backward.

"Publishing and writing….clearly means that what you've written is published, which clearly means that my stock is deficient, unless you write under another name!"

"I write under my own name, but you should really read _before_ you jump to conclusions! You'd probably hate it…honestly," he warned.

"You take me for a woman of narrow literary taste!" She looked injured.

"No. Just…mine is an acquired taste, at best, believe me," he hastened to smooth the carelessly rumpled feathers.

"Jess Mariano, are you trying to talk me _out_ of putting your book or books on my shelves? That's a very odd, and I must say, self-destructive attitude for an author to have!" She had him there. Jess scratched his head.

"That was check, and mate," he conceded. "All right. When you come to Truncheon, I'll give you a couple copies to put in stock. Happy?"

"Delirious. Now, Mr. Mariano, have you come to actually buy books or just to stand here talking about them all day? I understand both activities intuitively, but I must say, my rent won't pay itself," she chided.

"I'd be tempted to max out my credit card in your shop, just to make sure your rent never went unpaid. But, I'm afraid that's not a responsible thing for a parent to do, having food and shelter to consider-"

"What are food and shelter, when there are books?" she asked with wide earnest eyes.

"_So_ a woman after my own heart! Tell me, why weren't you born a decade or so later?" emphatically.

"Now, put down your pen! That is simply too much creative license! You're bound to break my old heart." But, she was smiling, clearly touched by the compliment.

"Well, then, we'll change the subject. Baum, Milne, Potter, Aesop, Burnett, Montgomery, Wilder - lead on, Captain - we'll follow," he said, eagerly, taking Jessica's hand, as if ready for an expedition.

"Very well. This way," she said, turning and leading the way, though she still shook her head and muttered, "…a decade or so…" which made him stifle a laugh.


	5. Chapter 4 Small Beginnings

_**A/N**_**:** _I reserve the right to go back and add to the chapter about the bookstore, and to change the bedtime story in this chapter. I like it, but there are certain reasons I need to change it when I can figure out how…but, it's become a point of writer's block, so I'm just going to post this chapter, so I can keep the story going and not bog down._

_Thank you SO MUCH for all the beautiful reviews! Special thanks to ICanSeeYourFace, Kassandra27, Miguel51, luvtheheaven, and Kellsabelle for their particularly insightful reviews and helpful critiques. I need all the help I can get. And, I promise, I will reply to these scrumptious reviews very soon._

_Sorry for the slow updates. I haven't stopped writing, but I keep going off on tangents, writing about things that happen MUCH LATER…like into sequels material later._

_I'll stop rambling now, and let you read. Hope you enjoy!_

_4. Small Beginnings _

The drive from New York to Philly seemed longer than usual, and when Jess pulled up into the complex's parking lot, it may have only been 4:30 in the afternoon, but he was beat. He yawned as he pulled the keys from the ignition.

"We're home," he told her simply, with a tired smile. _Maybe this wouldn't be so hard. Maybe everything would be okay after all. _He came around and unbuckled her. Even the stupid car seat was starting to cooperate. He lifted her from the car and…

"Shoot!" he said aloud. Her jeans were soaked through – checked the car seat – wet too._ I am such an idiot. Every parent since the invention of the automobile sends their kid to the bathroom before a long car ride. Of course she wouldn't tell me she had to go. Poor thing. She probably tried to hold it as long as she could._ Her eyes didn't leave the ground.

"It's okay, Sweetie. Don't worry about it. We'll get you inside and cleaned up in just a sec. Gotta unbuckle the car seat. Just hold on a minute." He kept a close eye on her while he wrestled with the car seat and seatbelt, which seemed to be jammed up inside…or behind somehow. _I swear…whoever invented these things…_

Inside the apartment, Jess headed straight for the bathroom, sticking the car seat in the tub for later cleaning.

"Find you somethin' clean to wear…" he said, unzipping the tiny duffel bag and taking inventory. Four pairs of underwear, two t-shirts, only one other pair of pants , three un-matching socks, and a toothbrush. _Wal-Mart, here we come._ He grabbed the pants and a pair of underwear, jamming the rest back into the bag. Next, he took a plastic bag from under the sink and a washcloth from the cupboard. Luke's voice came back to him: _Jess…are you ready for this? …I'm diving in. No dipping toes in the water. Just roll up your sleeves and keep going._

"Let's get you cleaned up and into some nice, dry clothes," he said, awkwardly removing her wet things and soaping up the washcloth with warm water. He fervently hoped that she was too young to be humiliated by this, and too innocent to be scared by it. In any case, there wasn't any way around it. When she was clean, he helped her into her dry things, and stowed the wet ones in the plastic bag. He had a very strong urge to chuck the plastic bag into the trash and be done with it – but that would be the bachelor thing to do. The parent thing would be taking it, along with the rest of his dirty laundry down to the coin operated machines in the next building. And it was almost dinner time.

So, after washing up, he stuck some pizza rolls in the oven, gathered up the laundry, and together they went down to the laundry room. He sat her down on top of the big machine and loaded it up. Then, he pulled some quarters from his pocket and let them clatter onto the machine next to her.

"Can you put those in there for me?" he asked, pointing to the slot. She dutifully fed the machine, and it roared to life. Jessica jumped a little and almost smiled. _Small beginnings._

The fridge opened with a squawk and the clinking of glass and plastic bottles on the door. Jess pulled out the orange juice and some veggies to accompany the pizza rolls that were now cooling on the counter. True to form, Jessica slurped down the orange juice, but touched nothing on her plate.

"Mm…this is so good!" he urged, "You gotta try some!" To no avail. He slowly finished his own food. "Come on – you gotta eat something!" She looked at him for a few long seconds, then climbed out of her chair, crossed the room and clambered up onto her bed. Jess sighed. "Okay...bed time, I guess." _She may not talk, but she gets her point across._

He fished around in one of the boxes that served as his temporary dresser, and pulled out one of his longer t-shirts. "Tomorrow, we'll go buy you some pajamas, but, for tonight, this'll hafta do." She was so small that she practically disappeared in the shirt once it was on, but it sort of worked as a nightgown.

"So – how 'bout a bedtime story?" He sat on the little bed with his back against the wall and patted one knee invitingly. He'd unloaded the newly acquired treasures onto her little shelf, and held the princess book in his hand. She approached hesitantly. "Come on," he urged gently, and helped her up. He held her in one arm, the book open in front of her in all its glory. He let her savor the pretty pictures as the words of the sweet fairytale spilled from his lips.

He couldn't help but think how incredible it was that this book had made its way into his hands on that day of all days. It was the tale, not just of a princess, but of a wise king, who, as in so many tales, devised a grand tournament in order to select a worthy husband for the princess. But here the tale diverged. For all the noble princes, knights, and lords tourneyed valiantly, each demonstrating their riches, their prowess, and, most of all, their derring-do in terms of horsemanship – showing that they, if so chosen, could take the princess to the very brink of the precipice, without falling to the craggy depths below. Each feat was more impressive than the last. But last of all, came a man less impressive in wealth and rank than all the rest - and he proclaimed that he had not the valiant heart for such peril, nor would he take the fair princess within one hundred yards of such a deadly danger - for he loved her with all his heart, and would protect her from any threat. The wise king smiled, and declared that he had made his choice. This was the man who would marry his beloved daughter, with all his blessing.

This was exactly the sort of fairytale Jess wished his little girl to believe. His voice choked over the last few words - and as he read "The End" he gave her a little squeeze, though he couldn't quite let himself drop a kiss on the top of her head - which oddly seemed the natural thing to do. He cleared his throat.

"All right," he said, standing, pulling back the covers, and tucking his new little charge snugly under them, "Time for sleep. Sweet dreams," he said with a tentative finger beneath her chin lifting her face to look into his, " . . . and welcome home."

He flicked off the light and lay down on his bed, waiting. As soon as he could hear she was asleep, he planned to sneak down and take care of the laundry, and then come back up to scrub the car seat. He waited in the darkness…and waited…ears straining to hear the pattern of her breathing. After a long while, instead of the long, deep, regular breaths he was anticipating, he heard a sniff, a quick gasp, and then muffled…nearly silent sobbing.

He wanted to fly to her side - to kiss it where it hurt - to make everything better. But, she had waited until she thought he was asleep. She hadn't wanted him to hear. And so, he just lay still in the darkness . . . and died a little.


	6. Chapter 5 Thus, the Baseball Cap

_**A/N:**__ I know I made everybody wait a long time for chapter 4, so I thought I'd give you another update right away, in appreciation for your patience, and for the stupendously marvelous reviews I've been getting lately - so insightful and thought-provoking. The process of answering each one (yes, I know I haven't finished this task ;-) I'm working on it), has helped to fuel my imagination, and keep the creative juices flowing, analyzing the characters and scenes in ways that help me to understand them even better._

_Thank you! Enjoy!_

_5. Thus, the Baseball Cap_

Next morning, Jessica still wouldn't eat, even though Jess had made his uncle Luke's famous blueberry pancakes to tempt her. If she wouldn't eat that, he didn't know what to try. She certainly couldn't survive on hot chocolate and orange juice. He drummed his fingers on the table. Even though it felt like admitting defeat, he pulled the phone from his pocked, flipped it open, and dialed Shane's number. Shane tended not to bother with introductions.

"I signed the papers - she's yours!" He didn't have time for whatever pointless argument she was trying to begin.

"What will she eat?" he demanded.

"Wha…?"

"Food! What will Jessica put in her mouth, chew, and swallow, Shane? It's a simple question."

"Anything!"

"Aw, _come on!_" He was too tired for this.

"Okay, I haven't tried her out on liver and onions, but she's not a picky kid - she'll eat anything you give her." This was obviously all he was going to get. Jess sighed.

"'Kay, thanks," he shut the conversation down.

"That was it?" She sounded puzzled.

"Yup."

"Okay…bye." The line went dead. He flipped the phone closed and sat with his head in one hand looking across at Jessica. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, cradling Annie in her arms, rocking side to side, as if soothing dolly to sleep. He sighed.

"How come you won't eat?" he monologued. "Your mom says you're not fussy. You _must_ be hungry by now. Is it something you're scared of? Do you feel sick to your stomach?" She didn't even look up. _We've already got the parent/child relationship down. I talk my head off, she ignores me. Perfect._

Their shopping trip was marginally successful. He filled in the holes in her wardrobe, despite the fact that he had no clue about sizes, and personal preferences required conversation, which was obviously out. He had wanted to buy her at least a couple of toys, but nothing anywhere seemed to spark her interest, so he gave up on the idea for the moment. They went home.

For the second time in one day, he felt himself completely tapped. This was not a good sign. Irritated with himself, he got out his phone and dialed Luke's number.

"Luke's Diner."

"Luke. I don't know what to do!"

"Nice to hear from you too. I'm takin' this in the back. Just a sec." He was gone for a few seconds. "You went and picked up Jessica yesterday, right?"

"Yes."

"Successfully?"

"Yeah – no problems there-"

"So, then, what's the problem? Is she driving you crazy already?"

"No, _that's_ the problem!"

"Okay…I'm afraid you lost me."

"She _won't_ talk!"

"So…you're complaining that she's _too_ quiet?"

"The kid makes mimes seem loud! From the time I picked her up – the whole four hour drive back, all last night, all day today – nothing! Not one word!"

"Wow."

" I was expecting whining, screaming, crying, flipping out, nightmares – the works! But this? I don't know how to deal with this!"

"You're kidding right?" Luke laughed. "This is _your kid_, Jess. You expected her to be a chatter-box?"

"No – but I expected her vocal chords would at least exist…I don't know how to _make conversation._ I can barely do it with people who talk. I know _nothing_ about her. She doesn't respond to simple, yes or no questions – Sheesh! I don't even know if she_ can_ talk! It didn't occur to me to ask…I mean…Shane talked to her – she does as she's told – so I know she can _hear_, but…" Jess suddenly ran out of steam.

"Jess…relax. She's three. And her world's upside down. She probably just needs time to process." Jess let out a long breath. "You'll get through this," Luke continued. "You'll get the hang of it. She'll talk to you when she's ready. If she's anything like her father, it won't be until she's grown-up and living on her own, but…"

"_Very reassuring,_" sarcastically.

"You're welcome."

"Oh…and she won't eat anything either."

"She won't eat? That's not normal." Now, Luke sounded concerned.

"_Really? _I thought it was. That's why I brought it up," he retorted.

"Don't be smart!"

"Huh…thought I was playing dumb…"

"Jess!"

"Sorry." He sighed. "Doesn't matter what I put in front of her - she just won't eat. Shane told me she'll eat anything, so I don't know _what _to think."

"She could be sick. You should take her to a doctor."

"Funny thing - doctors cost money."

"I can-" Luke began.

"No, you can't."

"The check you gave me-"

"Is yours. And what I said about tearing it up still goes!"

"But, Jess, you've got to-"

"I've got this! I'll handle this!" Jess insisted.

"Oh. So, you called me because '_you've got this_,'" Luke jibed.

"I called you because I needed to vent…_not seeming like such a good idea now_. _Don't worry…won't happen again._" Jess snapped. Luke sighed.

"Look, Jess - when you first came to stay with me, I was ready to tear my hair out-"

"Thus, the baseball cap," Jess teased.

"So not funny."

"Sorry. You were tearing your hair out…" he said, letting Luke continue.

"Never mind."

"What? You were tearing your hair out, so you…bought me nicotine patches. Nope, don't think that's gonna help much. You were tearing your hair out, so you…shoved me in the lake. Nope. With a tree-year-old, that'd get me jail time."

"Jess!" He could just see the smoke curling out of Luke's ears.

"Y'know," Jess grinned, "It's fun being the kid for a change!"

"You've only been a parent for a day and a half!" Luke scoffed.

"Well, technically-"

"Technically, nothing'! You're only a parent if you have to deal with a kid…" Something in Jess' tone started to sink in. "Jess…" Luke began, somewhat incredulously.

"Hmm?"

"You sound …happy." It was a new thought. Jess rolled it around in his brain for a moment, seeing how it tasted.

"I think I am." He was more surprised than Luke was.

"You're goin' crazy, 'cause your kid won't talk, won't eat, but…"

"I'm happy." Neither spoke for at least thirty seconds. They both knew that "happy" was the most fragile thing on earth.

"Jess…"

"Yeah."

"You'll need to vent…" he said knowingly, "…or get a baseball cap…so…"

"Nah, I'm good…"Jess assured him, "…'till next time."

"Next time?"

"Yeah," Jess nodded, "hats…..not really my style."

"Gotcha." Luke smiled. Jess was going to be okay. They both knew it.


	7. Chapter 6 Matt is Magic, Jess is Unbelie

_**A/N: **__Okay, longest chapter to date. I'm terribly sorry it has taken me this long to give you an update. Hopefully this chapter will make up for it. It's been like pulling teeth to write it, but it finally all made its way to paper/computer within the last couple of days. Before that, I only had the first 12 paragraphs sitting there mocking me. If only this story would write itself in order, it would be monumentally helpful - but instead, it hops, skips and tip-toes all over the landscape and timeline, dropping paragraphs and sentences - occasionally whole chapters - willy-nilly all over the place! *sigh*_

_Thank you all SO MUCH for your patience and support! Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! I'm still working on some of the replies, so don't lose heart there either if I haven't responded to yours yet. Some of the best ones require the most forethought, and therefore get procrastinated on *cringe* sorry. Particular thanks and apologies to ICanSeeYourFace and Kassandra27 - I've really loved your reviews, but haven't gotten around to responding to nearly enough of them (I have responded to some, right? *cringe) And particular thanks to Miguel51, Andra-ggfan, luvtheheaven, Melethril, and watram for your correspondence, encouragement, and for just talking to me about fan fiction in general. It has inspired me, fueled my creative juices, and helped me to press on. _

_Yes, this author's note is much too long. On to the story!_

_Chapter 6. Matt is Magic, Jess is Unbelievably Hot and He Found the Orange Juice _

"Tell me - how is it possible you ended up with such a cute kid - with your ugly mug?" Chris jibed, heading for the door of Truncheon. "I'm just askin'! You, know, man….are you sure she's yours? Cause she's…" with an expression indicating heavenliness, "…and you're…" with a cringe and a shiver denoting hideousness.

"Hey, man - look who's talkin'! Pot and kettle, that's all I can say," Jess tossed back at his retreating figure.

"Dude, that's _cold!_" he called back, holding the door open with one hand, and clutching his heart dramatically with the other, "I'm hurt!" Then he dropped the act. "Thanks for coverin' for me. I'll make it quick," he called.

"Whatever," said Jess, and Chris was out the door. He grinned as his little girl looked around wide-eyed. He had cleared it with Matt and Chris to take the week off so he and Jessica could adjust to one another and the apartment, and maybe he could get some writing done, but at the last minute, Chris had to call on him to cover when his car started making some startling noises…and stopping dead in the middle of the road for no apparent reason - he was off to take it to the shop. It was good to get out of the apartment anyway, and Jess had to admit, if only to himself, that he'd wanted to show Truncheon to Jessica, and vice versa.

She took it all in with eyes of wonder - the teal colored walls, the woodwork, the rows of books, the paintings, the sculptures, the stained glass windows - her eyes seemed to grasp the tiniest details, as she leaned toward each object in its turn, following it's lines and patterns, walking around them to get every perspective. Jess watched her in amazement.

Fortunately, he didn't see Matt staring. Matt wasn't sure if he'd ever seen a grin on Jess Mariano's face before. Even when he'd first been handed his book, fresh off the presses…he got a look of wonder, and his eyes shone, but never, _never_ had he seen Jess grin.

"So, this must be the famous Jessica," Matt said, smiling. Jess looked up, and Matt loved the fact that Jess seemed to have to deliberately wipe the grin off his face…and he was still half-smiling.

"This is my Jessica," he said proudly, as the little girl looked up at him, and then at Matt.

"The honor," he said, sweeping her a rather magnificent bow, "is all mine!" and he kissed her little hand, which made her eyes widen, but she seemed to like it - which made Jess chuckle. The grin was back, and what Matt didn't realize was another minor miracle, Jessica's mouth had curled into an ever-so-tiny shy smile.

"Matt," Jess said in a hushed tone, clearly impressed, "you are magic. You got the first real smile." Matt looked up at Jess, knowingly.

"No…_she_ did," Matt corrected. This embarrassed Jess a little, but he was in no mood to knock Matt back on his heels as he normally would have…not after that beautiful magic trick. He couldn't take his eyes off his little girl.

"She's so beautiful…" he breathed, shocking Matt still further. It was clear as day, he was a goner. His eyes followed every move she made with something like reverence. Evidently, Matt found this not only amazing, but also amusing.

"She didn't waste any time, did she?" he observed, coolly. Jess only squandered a fraction of a second glancing at his friend.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Wrapping you around her little finger," he finished, poking Jess in the ribs. Jess scowled at him, momentarily, brushing his hand away, gaze quickly returning to the girl as she continued making her way around the shop. Matt whistled. "You've got it bad!"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Jess muttered quickly and quietly, glancing toward a bench near the back of the store and at the nearby door, his face clouding with an expression that was the antithesis of what it had been the moment before. Jess' mind had been too busy of late to visit darker regions, but Matt's words called them vividly to mind. Had it really only been two weeks since Rory had killed him, and Shane had called less than ten minutes later to tell him he wasn't allowed to die…there was a quiet, dark-eyed, three-year-old reason for him to keep on living…or rather, to come back from the dead - two weeks.

"Oh, I meant to tell you," Matt interrupted his thoughts, "We've got a possible taker on renting out your old room, so you're gonna hafta get the rest of your stuff out of here…um…well, asap, actually. Sorry for the short notice, but…" he trailed off with a sigh. Jess let out a puff of air, cleansing himself of his previous thoughts, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"No problem. If Jeff will let me use his truck again, and I can get you and Chris to help move the shelves, I can have it all out by Friday," he assured him.

"Cool. Then we can stop tripping over your boxes every time we go up to use the bathroom," Matt said, by way of complaint.

"Hey, if it was up to me, I would have left everything _in_ the room. It was only your anal organizational skills that-"

"I know, I know!" Matt held his hands up in front of his face to halt the diatribe.

It was then, the bell over the door rang, signaling the entrance of a group of customers. They appeared to be a rowdy group of overprivileged teen girls, seeing the sights of Philadelphia, and chattering about everything. These were obviously the sort of customers who expected to have someone at the counter waiting to serve them. Matt cringed.

"I've already had more than my fill today. Your turn," he directed Jess, pointing toward the counter with a look that told Jess he'd have to pay if he didn't take this one. Jess looked at him in irritation.

"Watch her!" he ordered, motioning toward Jessica.

"Covered," Matt assured him, making his way toward the little girl as Jess sauntered with a carefully fashioned welcoming smile toward the older girls.

"That's him!" he heard one of the girls whisper to another as he walked up. Why did he have a feeling that faking lunacy and some kind of seizure, slobbering all over the floor was probably a better option than the warm greeting he was obligated by good business sense to give?

"How can I help you ladies today?" he asked brightly, slapping one hand down on the front desk as he leaned on it, pen perched behind his ear at a rakish angle, as he looked from one girl to the next, lips pursed in a friendly expression, . There was a rustling of shopping bags, and a soft, collective nervous giggle before one of the girls - the one standing closest to the whisperer - stepped forward. She had piercing blue-green eyes, a narrow face framed by tiny red ringlets.

She tossed her head upward, and with a flash of the blue-green eyes, she demanded, "Did you write this?" holding out a copy of _The Subsect._

"That depends," he said, leveling his eyes at her. She looked puzzled. "Does this have anything to do with riots? Protests? Picketing? Tar and feathers? A lynch mob, maybe? Or, just a good, old-fashioned book burning?" His voice had settled into its old sarcastic drawl, responding to her demanding tone.

"None of the above," she countered with a haughty tone. "It's just that one of my classmates," she said, glancing behind her significantly, "told me that the author of _The Subsect_ worked in a little hole-in-the-wall bookstore right here in Philadelphia. I didn't believe her."

"I also told her you were unbelievably hot," the girl behind, chimed in with the same characteristic lack of inhibition.

"Why, thank you," Jess replied, tipping her a nod, trying not to let this throw him in any visible way.

"Well?" the first girl demanded.

"I take it this is some kind of bet?" he asked, glancing from one girl to the other. Their private school uniforms were giving him his second _I think I'm going to die now_ flashback for the day. It was all he could do to stay in the moment and deal with their here-and-now questions. The redhead spoke up, and for the first time, he was able to place her accent.

"Not a bet, really. More of a _friendly_ disagreement." Australian - definitely Australian. He was torn by a desire to see this girl put in her place, and a desire to burrow into the ground beneath them…or, the whole slobbering seizure thing was still a definite option…it negated having to answer questions.

"Well, you're at least half right," he fudged, looking at Miss I-think-you're-hot, "Mr. Mariano _does_ live here in Philadelphia, and we do _publish_ his book here. I'm afraid he does his writing elsewhere, though."

"Oh," she said, softly, in a tone of surprised disappointment. He shrugged at her apologetically.

"I told you so!" the redhead snapped, victoriously. It was too much.

"No," he told her pointedly, eyes looking straight into hers, blinking rapidly, with an unmistakable challenge, "I'd wager you told her that he had no connection with this shop, or Philadelphia, whatsoever. In a sense, he _does _work here - just not behind the counter every day." It was a bit of a treat to watch the redhead squirm uncomfortably - particularly since that was exactly the internal effect her previous attitude had on him. He congratulated himself on turning this whole episode against her without ever telling one out-and-out lie.

"Out of curiosity," he asked, genuinely curious, "how did you happen to come across this book?" It was the girl behind who answered him.

"It was a recommendation from our Lit teacher. It was sent to him by an English professor at Yale, and he's got half his students reading it now. But, there aren't enough copies to go around." At the mention of Yale, Jess' breath caught in his throat. He nodded, biting his lower lip with his eyes on the floor. He didn't have to wonder for a second how his book had gotten into that professor's hands. How can something kill you and make you happy at the same time?

Matt came up in a bit of a hurry, with Jessica on his heels, and began shuffling through the desk drawer.

"Hey, Jess, where are the rubber bands?" he asked frenetically. Jess cringed, but pointed to a lower drawer. Matt crowed over the acquisition and left as quickly as he'd come. _Remind me to kill him later. _The redhead arched an eyebrow at Jess, and spoke acridly as she slowly turned on her heel.

"Good afternoon . . . _Mr. Mariano."_ His own name had never sounded so like nails on a chalkboard before. The rest of the girls followed her lead, turning to leave, with the exception of the flaxen-haired whisperer. Her previous bravado seemed to melt a bit, and she held out her own copy of his book.

"Would you mind signing it for me?" she asked shyly, twisting one strand of hair around her finger. He laughed softly, but took the book and opened it, pulling the pen from behind his ear. He had no idea then, and neither did she, that the quick note he scrawled would turn this copy of _The Subsect_ into a collector's item years hence.

When all of his "adoring fans" - he shook his head, with a shudder at the thought - had left, he made his way to the back of the shop where Matt was entertaining Jessica with a sock-puppet show. His bare feet testified to the fact that he had indeed used his own socks for the performance. The storyline the two sock-characters were acting out was inscrutable, and the voices were of the high-pitched mouse like variety. _SO begging to be mocked!_ Jessica, however, was clearly enchanted. Therefore, he only poked at Matt a little.

"Magical, yet putrefying," was all he said. Matt glowered at him before continuing the act, which so delighted its one viewer. Jess let him be, since Matt was getting on with Jessica so well, and started going over some paperwork that was frightfully overdue. He listened amusedly to Matt's non-ventriloquism, and when the bizarre plot had finally worked itself out, and the puppets were taking their bows, he looked over to see his little girl actually applauding. _Wow_.

Standing up, Matt flashed him a grin, sauntering over to the counter with Jessica following behind. Jess shook his head, smiling, as he continued to rifle through papers, placing them in stacks on the desktop.

"You're pretty pleased with yourself, aren't you?" Jess asked, looking at the cocky expression Matt wore. Matt laced his fingers together, stretching them, palm-outward in front of him, in an extraordinarily self-satisfied fashion.

"When you've got it, you've got it!" he boasted. He brought his fingernails up in front of his mouth, breathing on them before polishing them on his tan fish-bone sweater-vest.

"You'd better wash those," Jess said, grimacing at the pre-worn-sock-soiled fingers.

"You're just jealous 'cause I've got the magic and you don't," Matt told him, heading toward the stairs. He looked behind him and saw that Jessica was still following him. He turned and addressed her like a puppy dog, pointing to the spot where she stood, "Stay," fixing her with a serious look. Jessica returned the serious expression, looking precisely like a puppy who'd been hit with a newspaper without knowing why. Jess laughed softly.

"Come here, Little One," he reached out and gently guided her toward him, hugging her against the side of his leg, a gesture which she meekly accepted but didn't reciprocate. He resumed paper sorting, but on the fifth sheet, froze.

It occurred to him - Matt wasn't the only one with magical powers. After all, this wasn't the first time Jess Mariano had wanted to make a girl smile, talk, open up to him…like him. He had his tricks.

It had been so long, he'd almost forgotten.

"You like orange juice, right?" Jess asked, with a twinkle in his eye. Naturally, Jessica didn't answer with her voice, but he was beginning to discover the _yes_es and _no_s of her beautiful eyes. Besides, he knew this one was a yes. "Come with me."

He led her up the wooden stairs and into the common room. The guys must have had a guest up here in the last day or so, because the place was never this clean. The common room was a cramped living space and kitchen squashed together. It had a couch and a television, shelves on every available wall surface, filled with books and magazines, and music - cds, cassettes, and even vinyl…lots of it, actually, as it was what they used for music downstairs, unless they had live music…great ambiance - a small coffee table. On the other side of the room was a refrigerator, sink, oven, stovetop, microwave, and a small kitchen table with four chairs.

He took Matt's perennial bowl of mandarin oranges and placed them on the table. Next, he turned to the cupboard and extracted a small plastic cup and set it onto the table next to the bowl.

Matt came from washing his hands and looked at the proceedings, but Jess winked at him and inclined his head toward the stairs. Matt took the hint and went down to cover the front desk.

"I thought we could make some orange juice," he told Jessica cheerfully. "Do you know how to make orange juice?" Her eyes searched the room, evading his gaze - it was her version of _no. _As he spoke, he snatched three small, bright oranges from the bowl and began tossing them in the air lightly, transfixing her with the juggling act as he spoke. She was mesmerized, and dizzily tried to follow all three of the vividly colored orbs simultaneously. Already, she was the most attentive audience his little performances had ever received. "Really, all you have to do is take an orange and _squeeze _it until the juice comes out. Wanna see?" he asked, catching all of the oranges at once as he finished the question.

She nodded, for once, forgetting herself in her excitement. Jess' heart leapt, and a grin sprang to his face, but he tried not to make a big deal out of it. He knew that any part of her that contained his DNA would hate if he made a big deal out of it. He placed two of the oranges back into the bowl, tossing the remaining one back and forth a couple of times for good measure.

"You watching? I'm gonna squeeze this _really hard_, and you watch to see the juice coming out, okay?" Her eyes flicked between the orange and the cup. He encased the tiny orange in his hand and began to squeeze mightily…but nothing came out. With a look of puzzlement, he opened his hand. It had vanished! Simultaneously, he and Jessica both jumped, startled. He stared at his empty palm, opened and closed his hand, flipped it around to examine the back - then began looking around his immediate vicinity sharply.

"_Weird,_" he uttered, as if completely baffled by this turn of events. "That's not supposed to happen." He frowned, then shrugged. "Guess I'll have to try again." By this time, Jessica's eyes were _huge_, and she watched the second orange in his hand with extraordinary intensity. He knew he'd have to be really good to fool her this time. "You're watching for the orange juice?" he checked. She nodded seriously, not taking her eyes off the orange for a second. Jess tried not to smirk. When the second orange vanished, he jumped again, just for good measure.

"Did _you _do that?" he accused, drawing back from her in shock. The little girl looked at him wide eyed and innocent, shaking her head rapidly. The expression Jess wore was a marvelous bit of acting - just as surprised as the little girl who sat in front of him, and with the slightest tinge of concern, changing to perplexity, and slowly to realization. As understanding dawned upon his features, he began to tap his forefinger in the air, as if pointing to the solution.

"I know…I know what it is!" he announced. "I _forgot_ to _peel_ the orange!" _Because, naturally, this would cause it to vanish into thin air. _So, he took a third orange from the bowl, carefully digging into its soft skin with his thumbnail, and pulling it loosely from the fruit inside. He shot her a _now it should work_ look, and enclosed the white sectioned fruit in his hand. After squeezing this one…and squeezing…shaking it a bit to try to wring drops from the corner of his fist where the juice _should_ be coming from, he opened his hand, and looked disappointedly at his empty palm. He slumped to his seat at the table leaning on his elbow, chin resting on his other fist, with a look of disheartened resignation.

"I dunno if we're ever gonna get any juice at this rate." He sighed. It was terribly hard, though, to maintain the beleaguered expression when he saw it mirrored in the little face opposite. Jess chewed on his lip as if deep in thought, then he looked up. "Maybe if I squeezed it _in_ the glass, it would stay put," he ventured. Jessica's face brightened slightly at the possibility…though after all this failure, she didn't seem to hold out much hope. Taking another orange, he peeled it, and set it on top of the cup. This was to be the grand finale, where he made both cup and orange disappear in one motion which seemed to push them into the table, but actually flipped them _behind_ the table and into his other hand. It _should_ have worked.

Instead, the force of his hand squeezed the orange into the cup, squirting orange juice all over his face. He looked up at her, blinking rapidly, as it dripped.

"Found the juice!" he announced, trying to rub the sting of it out of his eye with the back of his hand, and was greeted by the most beautiful sound in the world. Jessica's giggle rippled throughout the small room, like bells, like springtime birds, like music, and like nothing he had ever heard before. "Oh, so _that_ you thought was funny…" Even in the midst of his happiness, he couldn't resist saying it. Jessica just kept laughing.

It was a shame no one had a camera. The picture of Jess sitting there across from his little girl, as they burst into laughter together for the first time, was a moment in time worth capturing.

After all of this, what ought to have been the climax of the day was almost an anti-climax, a detail - though, to Jess it was definitely far more. While Jessica was still convulsed in laughter, he fished the mangled orange out of the cup, pulled off a couple of sections, shrugged in their direction with a _what else ya gonna do with 'em?_ look, handed one to her, while shoving the other in his mouth. Yes, he'd _hoped_ she would follow suit, but he really hadn't expected it. In fact, he almost choked when she did - but tried to play it off nonchalantly. Before she could finish even that section, he had another of the small oranges peeled and sectioned off, handing sections to her as fast as she could finish them. He swiveled in his seat, and scanned the fridge quickly…brought out some cheese and scrounged crackers from one of the cabinets. He hoped he could do all of this before it dawned on her that she _was actually eating_ - afraid she would stop. He needn't have worried. Almost two days straight without food gave her an appetite and resulting speed that he almost cringed at. Was it _safe_ to eat that fast? Just how much could she _eat?_ Oh well. She was eating. That was all that mattered.

When she finally seemed to be slowing down, he cut off another tiny piece of cheese and held it out to her, asking, "You think Annie wants some?" Jessica looked up at him with a hint of surprise, and then a smile spread across her face - not a shy, _I hope you can't see that I'm smiling_ smile, not a completely comfortable one either, but more of an _I think I like that_ smile. She took the tiny wedge of cheese and pretended to put it into her dolly's mouth, before sneaking it slyly into her own. _Picking up tricks already,_ he thought, wiping his hand across his mouth to hide his amusement.

Matt came clomping up the stairs with a cell phone to his ear, clearly arguing with one of their more stubborn writers…then again, did they publish the works of any writers who _didn't_ fall into that category?

"No….You-You said that _last_ week, _and_ the week before…How is that not enough time?…Well, change them, then!…No-No, I didn't say-" he sighed, "I wasn't going to-Well, get your-" he glanced nervously at Jessica for a microsecond, "Get your _butt_ in gear and cut what needs to be cut! I don't care which! No. I don't care. But we're going to presses in _two days_! Two days, d-_darn _it, and if you can't…" Jess began to laugh silently at Matt's internal _bleep _button as he became more and more agitated, and his speech became more and more choppy. Somehow, he couldn't get a certain Bill Cosby routine to stop looping his mind. When Matt hung up, he glared at Jess, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"Shut up!" he snapped. Jess continued to laugh, holding his hands up in innocence. "This is your fault!" Matt told him. Jess held his sides, wrapping his arms around them, and went on laughing. "And it's not that funny!" He shook his head at Matt, as if to say _of course not_, but kept on laughing just the same. Matt shook his head and walked away sullenly. Jessica looked between them uncertainly.

"Hey, Mattie!" Jess crooned, leaning back in his chair and extending an open hand in Matt's direction. "Come on…lighten up…" he coaxed. The thundercloud that had temporarily settled over Matt's head might have lifted if he hadn't stubbed his toe and nearly tripped on one of Jess' boxes of books at that very moment. His face went red, while Jess' smile faded for a moment.

"_Jess!_" he hissed, "Will you get your-" his face contorted in a mixture of rage and restraint, "Your-_your books! _Your _stupid, stupid, STUPID BOXES _of _stupid _books out of the-" he rifled through a long string of unintelligible consonants, failing to find an un-colorful word, and finally burst, "_Get them out of here_! Just get them out of here!" Jess resumed his onslaught of laughter and strode past Matt to the bathroom, emerging a second later, holding a bar of soap which he pointed at Matt with an impish flourish.

"Now, do I have to use this?" he asked with an evil glint in his eye, and a serio-comic paternal tone guaranteed to send Matt over the edge.

"That's it! You are _dead_, Mariano! You hear me, _dead!_" Matt shouted, knocking the soap out of his hand and giving chase around the small room. For those of you who may be concerned for the little girl sitting at the table during this encounter, rest assured that, though these words and actions might have otherwise been terrifying, Matt's anger rarely had any effect on anyone, and Jess' unabated laughter showed that the whole thing was clearly a joke. The merry chase only ended when Matt actually caught Jess, and in the process of playful pummeling, three oranges were jostled from Jess' pocket and went thumping cheerfully down the stairs. The two men froze, and Jess' eyes shot up at Jessica…caught. She looked at him in puzzled surprise. He returned the look, and said the only thing that came to mind.

"_Huh._"

_**A/N:**__ Thank you to Kassandra27 for pointing out the OOCness of the fan girl incident as previously written. Hopefully this remedied the situation. Let me know what you think. (That goes for everybody - good change? Bad change? Opinions?)_

_And, thank you, Capri, for the pen-behind-the-ear. How could I forget?_


	8. Chapter 7 MoonlightSunlight

_**A/N: **__Here's a little chapter to tide you over. The next one will be longer, and is already more than half-finished, I promise. Thank you again for all of your wonderful reviews._

_Believe it or not, I have a very difficult time writing about the actions and dialogue of children (mentally hard, not emotionally hard), which is why it's been easier to write these chapters where Jessica is so very timid and untrusting, both in non-word and non-action. But, that also means that this story will get harder and harder for me to write as Jessica opens up more and more. Any anecdotes, experiences, etc. regarding raising small children or about small children and their actions/speech/mannerisms etc. would be MUCH appreciated. Please private message me with as much of this as you're willing to share. I'd be eternally grateful. Thank you._

_And, yes, I know, taking on a story like this with such limited experience with children was perhaps a foolish undertaking - however, like Jess said to the waitress in Chapter 2, "I remember what it was like to be a kid," and that's mainly what I've been drawing on. I had the incredible treasure of having a great dad, and it's been a wonderful experience reading this story to him as I'm writing it. More than any other reward I could have received, I knew my writing was a success when I looked up and saw there were tears in my father's eyes…the dad I don't remember seeing cry in the whole time I was growing up. I saw those tears, and I knew both that I had written it right, and…wow…he really loves me._

_So…*deep sigh*…on with the story:_

_Chapter 7. Moonlight/Sunlight _

A pillowcase was tacked up over the apartment window, moonlight filtering in through the woven fibers of the thin cotton fabric. _The city lights may shut out the stars, but the moon shines even in Philadelphia._ Somehow the moon always took him through space and time back to that bridge. "…_how many moons are reflected in the lake?…" Stupid song. Stop doing this to me._ He could see the moonlight shining, dancing, wavering on the ripples of the pond…feel the wood beneath him creak with footsteps…taste the cigarette smoke on his tongue, its acrid warmth filling his lungs…feel his hands shake. Time to leave. Time to leave and not come back. He could see her eyes…more perfect than any moon that ever shone…twin moons, reflecting the moonlight of that perfect still moment when she first told him that she cared…and his heart forgot to beat. _Stupid moon._

There was a lead weight on his chest. It was crushing him. He flung himself off the mattress, grabbing his notebook, and took the two strides to the bathroom in the dark. Shutting the door behind him, he flipped the light switch and sat down on the cold linoleum…and began to write. His pen moved furiously across the page for the next several hours. Never mind that he was sitting there in just his boxers, and it _was cold._ Never mind the light in the bathroom flickered in such a way that made his eyes buggy. Never mind his neck and shoulders and hips and knees screaming out in pain, each in their turn. Never mind that he kept losing circulation in his feet and calf muscles to the point that they were totally numb, and he had to pound them with his fists to get the sensation back into them, and the horrible aching and unbearable billion fold acupuncture as they came back to life. Never mind that outside this room the moonlight was probably making way for the dawn. Never mind that his little girl would be waking up to an empty room with no idea where he'd gotten to. Okay, so that one he probably should mind. He forced himself to close the notebook and try to stand up - emphasis on the word, "try." It took considerable time and effort to attain a standing position despite all the muscle groups in his entire body banding together to go on strike, due to the cruel and unreasonable working conditions. He pushed the door and it squawked open. _Well, if she wasn't awake before, she will be now._

A twisted heap of sheets and blankets rose and fell with the soft, steady breathing of the small child beneath them. There was a magnetic pull. Without conscious thought, he found himself beside this heap, gently pulling the covers away so he could see the softness of her face in the yellow-white rays of sunrise that crept through the pillowcase. In that light, he could see even the fine soft hairs on the gentle slope of her cheek. The crisp clean air filled his nostrils, his lungs. His eyes stung with lack of sleep, and something else. His fingers went unbidden to the girl's hair, just where the hairline curved at the edge of her forehead, stroking its softness timidly. His chest heaved in a quaking sigh. His throat constricted, and he swallowed with difficulty. For once, his lips didn't ask his permission. It had something to do with the smooth softness underneath his fingertips, and the light on her face, and the peaceful sound of her breath, and the sweetness…the sweetness…

Tenderly, his lips kissed the sweet, soft, pinkness of her cheek…just once.

The sleeping child would never know the moment her father first kissed her. She would never know how long he stood there watching her as she slept in the early morning stillness. Like so many other moments that a child can never remember, and a parent can never forget - this one passed quietly, without fanfare or monument; and when it was done, Jess turned slowly toward the window, took two steps, sat down at the table, opened his notebook, and again, began to write.


	9. Chapter 8 Writing in Books and PieCrust

_**A/N:**__ Before going on to this chapter, I wanted to let you know that I revised the scene with Jess' fan girls in "Matt is Magic, Jess is Unbelievably Hot, and He Found the Orange Juice." I changed a sizable section, and added more depth to the story, so please go check it out before reading this chapter._

_For this chapter, I owe a large debt of thanks to Kassandra27 who worked me through the multiple roadblocks I was facing in getting it written. I'm still not sure if I'm completely satisfied with it. It was very painful to write. Be warned, it's a very angst-filled chapter. I had wanted to end it on a cheerful note, but it's taking too long to get to that point, so the turning of the tide will have to be saved for the next chapter (please don't kill me)._

_Please review. I'm going to need it to get through writing the next chapter. __J Also, I welcome creative criticism on this chapter, particularly. It's been such a nightmare to write, that I can hardly figure out what it says anymore, or if it makes sense. Don't get me wrong, I'll need plenty of praise too to get me out of the funk that writing this much angst has put me in, but I also need to know what should be changed, and how._

_Thanks, everybody! Hope you like it!_

_8. Writing in Books and Pie-Crust Promises_

Jess had been sitting at the card table writing all morning. Now he sat, absently nibbling the lid of his pen and staring out the window. He took the pen from his mouth and sighed. Picking up the green, chipped mug he'd refilled three times, he went to take a slug, but it was empty again. _Four cups of coffee and my brain's still mush!_ He set down the mug and ran his fingers through his hair, then down his face and yawned. The muse had definitely left.

Jessica had been awake for almost two and a half hours. Jess had given her cereal and continued scribbling. He wished he had something to amuse her, and felt guilty for continuing to write when she'd finished feeding Annie and herself, and went back to her bed. She sat there, with Annie over one shoulder, bouncing, just as Jess had playfully done the day before, "burping" her. He couldn't help but smile at that. In some ways she'd come a long way in the few days they'd had together. The incident with the oranges happened four days before, and now, she seemed to eat whatever was set before her, just as Shane said she normally did; when he asked her a question, she would nod or shake her head in response; and occasionally, when he did something that really pleased her, she rewarded him with one of her precious smiles. They were making slow progress, but still, it was progress. He was still worried by the fact that she hadn't spoken, and it frustrated him to know so little about her, but things were moving forward, and he allowed himself the bit of optimism that in time, it would all work itself out. On a morning like this, though, he wished he knew something that she would actually enjoy doing. He needed to write, but he hated seeing her sit there with nothing to occupy her time. She couldn't just burp the doll forever.

The sleepless night was beginning to take its toll on him. His eyes had crossed more than once as he reviewed what he'd just written, crossed out bits and pieces, added words here and there, and littered the page with arrows where sections should be put in a different order. Overtired, he began to wonder if his editing was doing more harm than good - it was becoming a mangled mess. - best to put it away for awhile and come back to it with fresh eyes.

He yawned again, glancing over at the little girl and wondering if he dared to leave her alone long enough to take a shower, or whether he should wait for her to go down for a nap. She was moving around the bed on her knees, making Annie "walk," exploring the heaps of blankets as if on a mountain trek. He smiled. She was playing…not just cuddling dolly, but clearly had a story in her mind and was having her doll act it out. She leaned over, opening her sock drawer, holding Annie at an angle where the doll could peer inside, then hop down and do a little dance among the socks. Her dad idly watched, wishing she would let him enter into the game - musing that it was probably too soon for this. Though he'd gotten her grudging approval, she'd been anxious enough when he held Annie long enough to feed and burp her the day before. He knew that releasing Annie from her custody for even that amount of time was a huge act of trust. Better not to push it. She seemed to be doing pretty well on her own, though.

"Jessica?" She looked up at him at the sound of her name. "I'm gonna go take a shower. You be okay here for a few minutes?" he asked. She looked at the ceiling, then back at Annie before nodding, and going back to her dolly's adventures. "Okay," he said, grabbing a change of clothes and heading for the bathroom. It was the first time in a week he'd showered while she was awake. The steaming water spread relief as it poured over his aching muscles, eliciting a low moan. It made him almost light-headed. Right now his sleep debt was bordering on the ridiculous. It seemed strange. He knew that new parents typically suffered from severe sleep-deprivation, but he had always assumed it was due entirely to the infamous 3 o'clock feedings, and squalling newborn infants. He had no idea how much it was caused by the new sensation of being on hyper-alert 24/7. How did they cope? It had only been a week, and he had only forgone one _entire_ night of sleep, and this had been due to inspiration induced hyper focus, not dad-duty - but, already, he felt his brainpower dwindling, and he had the lovely combination of a caffeine buzz and complete brain fog - sloshing through mental sludge, coupled with progressively worsening lack of physical coordination, and possible lapses in judgment. Was it really okay to leave a three-year-old in an apartment completely unsupervised, even for 10 or 15 minutes? Suddenly, he began to doubt this, sudsing more rapidly.

When he was through, he burst from the bathroom fully clothed, but hair still dripping, suddenly frantic to make sure nothing was on fire, and Jessica hadn't climbed the furniture and fallen and broken her neck, stuck anything into the electrical sockets, or any of the other scenarios racing through his sleep befuddled brain. Much to his relief, he found her, not on the bed where he'd left her, but sitting at the table, pen in hand…writing. Writing? Okay, scribbling. He was calmed by this for half a second, then realization dawned upon him as he recognized a very precious leather-bound volume beneath her pen. He lunged in panic!

"_What are you doing?" _he boomed, fiercely confiscating the beloved book from its innocent vandal. Noting the abject terror written all over her face, he set the book down, fists clenching at his side in a frantic attempt to physically rein himself in before causing more damage that he already had. He closed his eyes, and drew one careful, slow breath after another. _She's three years old. She's three years old. Just chill. Quit overreacting. She didn't know. She had no idea what she was doing. Calm down. Damage control now - you freaked her out, now you have to fix it- _This deliberate, self-induced cooling off period was cut short by a click…a click he shouldn't be hearing from that corner of the room. His eyes flashed open. The chair was empty. The door was open. Jessica was gone.

"_Jessica!"_

No time to figure out how on earth she'd unlocked it that rapidly, or at all, for that matter. No time to do anything but run in complete panic. How had her little legs carried her down all those stairs before he hardly made it out the door! "_Jessica!" _At the bottom of the stairs his heart stopped at the sound of screeching tires! Lots of screeching tires. It started pounding again as he saw a yellow blur on the other side of the road, racing down the sidewalk. "_Jessica!" _It hardly registered when the tires were squealing to avoid him, as he frantically pursued his little girl. Thank heavens his legs were longer! His frantic strides carried him to her within a few hundred feet.

He scooped her up into his arms and held her, trembling from head to toe - heart pounding through his chest - _what exactly does a heart attack feel like, anyway?_

"It's okay," he mumbled into her hair. "It's-okay, it's okay, itsokay,itsokay,itsokay,itsokay…" He couldn't be certain whether he was trying more to reassure her or himself. When his breathing stopped coming in ragged gasps, he pulled her far enough away to look into her eyes. "You can't _do_ that! I can't take it! Please, please, you don't understand…you just can't…don't _ever…" _he struggled, pleading desperately, fighting the impossibility of keeping any trace of anger from his voice, "_ever_ run away like that_! _No matter what happens! Please…._please!" _He clutched her to his chest again, choking on the words in his throat, desperate to show her, rather than telling her, what this meant, what _she_ meant to him - desperate to hold her close and never let her go.

He'd never understood before how it was that a frightening experience could be said to "take years off your life." He'd been scared before. He'd been terrified, more times than he'd choose to admit, but this was the first time that phrase made perfect sense to him. In fact, some time later, when he spotted his first few gray hairs, he would attribute them to these harried seconds on this very day.

Again, he distanced himself just far enough for eye contact, bringing one hand up to gently brush the hair from her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked imploringly, searching her eyes as he did so. She didn't nod or shake her head. Her eyes avoided his, looked to the sky, the street, anywhere but his face. _No, please,_ his heart pleaded softly…but he knew it was no use. She was gone again. He'd pushed her away. What more was there to be said? To be done? Surely, he'd done enough, he thought bitterly.

"Let's go home," he said huskily, and began to carry her back in the direction of the apartment. He was too tired to think - too tired to do anything but plod, blindly and despondently back to home base. Maybe the answers were there. Maybe they weren't. He told himself that he was beyond caring. It wasn't true, but caring hurt a little too much right now.

When they entered the apartment, he turned and fastened the chain on the door with the last coherent thought he could muster. He turned and faced the silent room. _It's so dark in here. Why is it so dark in here?_ The caffeine and the adrenaline seemed to spiral out of his system at the same moment. He was still shaking, buzzing, vibrating inside - his arms and legs especially, but every ounce of strength seemed to have drained from his body. _Please, God, tell me she's ready for a nap. I don't know what I'll do if she isn't ready for a nap._

He took her to her bed, laying her down gently on her side. She still wouldn't look at him. His eyes refused to leave her. The fingers of his right hand combed through her curls, while his left soothingly stroked her arms and back. The silence was dense, but the touch was tranquil…warm…easing the frayed nerves the last hour had wrought in both father and child. Within minutes, her dark, doe-like eyes fluttered shut. Jess kept smoothing her hair, running his hand lightly along the tense, but slackening muscles of her little form. But his arms were turning to lead, and so were his eyelids. Stinkin' floor was too hard - bed was too stinkin' far. He used the blankets to lift Jessica and slide her over on the mattress before carefully collapsing behind her. One leg was still hanging over the edge of the bed when unconsciousness overtook him.

The sun's rays were slanting through the window, nearing the horizon, when he woke. The longing for sleep wasn't fully satiated, but he'd woken because of a stirring beneath his arm. This was when he realized his arm had tugged the little girl into a gentle embrace as he slept. As his eyes slowly focused on his wide-awake daughter, he wondered how long she'd been lying there awake, trying to figure out how to wriggle out from underneath his arm. He moaned slightly, shifting so he no longer impeded her.

"Sorry 'bout that," he mumbled, a worried look gracing his features. Jessica looked up, her eyes catching his momentarily. Her worried face reflected his own. Tentatively, one little hand crept upward…slowly, haltingly…and finally came to rest on his cheek, rose-petal soft. It seemed to be the _it's okay_ to his frown. The worry lines softened into something wistful…longing…and trembled their way into a still-sad smile. _Guess I didn't destroy us completely. Not yet, anyway. Give it time. I'll screw up irrevocably sooner or later. Always do._

_Quit it! Stop with the self-fulfilling prophesies. You really think that's gonna help anything? Try explaining. Never been much good with that, but it's worth a shot. Come on! Open mouth-start talking!_

"Jessie?" he murmured softly. The little girl looked up at him. Her soft little fingers were still resting on his cheek, and it was nearly killing him. "Can I show you something special?" Her eyebrows raised ever-so-slightly. He smoothed her sleep tousled curls lovingly before nibbling on his lower lip, glancing downward blinking rapidly - then lifting only his eyes to her once again. When Jessica got older she would realize that all these tiny movements combined meant that her dad was about to share something that few people saw, and was shy about doing so. She hadn't learned to read his face this well yet, though, and only wondered what he was about to show her. Rising from the bed, he took her gently in his arms and carried her over to one of the bookcases.

"What do you see?" he asked her with smiling eyes, tilting his head to one side to look at her while she looked at the shelves of books. Her little eyebrows formed a worry line…neither _yes_ nor _no_, for neither of these would do for this question, but they clearly spoke _I don't know what you want me to see._ "If you just see books on a shelf, then you're missing the secret," he told her, and his lips joined in the smile…a sweet small smile that turned the corners of his mouth up almost impishly. "Because, here on these shelves are the most beautiful places in the world…forests and mountains, oceans, meadows, deserts, rivers, little rambling brooks where fishes swim, with frogs hopping along the banks, and wild deer leaping across and going to nibble flowers on the edge of the nearby woods. There are cities too - big, bustling, noisy cities with windows that tower up and almost reach the sky, cars that rush here and there, trains and subways and trolleys - on the street and under the street. There's sprawling wide open spaces with magnificent horses, herds of cattle, coyotes howling in the distance. There are wild, exciting adventures with pirates and treasures, and soft, quiet moments of peace. And, there are such wonderful people. Some of the best friends you'll ever make live here on these shelves." Jessica's eyes were wide, but there was confusion in them along with wonder at the words that were weaving beautiful pictures in her mind's eye. Jess kept on telling her of these splendors, trying to help her understand. "Every time you open a book," he breathed, "you step into a whole new world that's been sitting up on the shelf waiting for you to come explore it." He looked into the depths of her eyes, the sunset light illuminating them and bringing out their depths of mahogany and bronze. He smiled at her, but there was a pleading in his eyes and in his voice that bespoke themselves of both sadness and hope. "I want you to come with me," he told her, "I want you to explore all of this with me. I want to share it with you. I want to show you these places - introduce you to these friends. I want to read to you…and with you."

He couldn't read the expression in her face now - couldn't tell whether he was reaching her. Longing took hold of him for the umpteenth time to hear her speak whatever was on her heart. But he knew that only time and patience, and the gentle building of trust would bring this to pass. There were no short-cuts. The only way to earn trust was to give it, and there was only one way he could think of to place his trust in this little girl. Maybe it wouldn't mean anything to her. Maybe all it would do was rip his heart wide open. He turned and sat down at the table with Jessica sitting in his lap. The forest green leather-bound book still sat on the corner of the table. In simple, but whimsical lettering, "The Wizard of Oz" was printed in gold leaf on the front cover. Underneath the words was the embossed picture of an awkward looking bespectacled lion with the top-knot of his mane swept up into an incongruous bow. It looked innocuous enough - still, he hadn't dared to open it since shortly after it came into his hands the first time. He had read this copy exactly once. Jess licked his lips, alternately sucking in the top, then the bottom, then biting down on the bottom lip hard, working up the courage to open the cover. Jessica watched his face apprehensively. His brows crinkled with uneasiness, his jaw was set, his lips now pursed into an all-too-straight line. His hand reached forward with a swift motion and flipped the cover open.

There, on the creamy white page in front of him was the familiar handwriting that caused him to wince involuntarily. She wrote simply, "To my Dodger…my Tin Woodman, from his Munchkin Maiden." No. No, he couldn't do it. His eyes closed and he turned his face away from the book in pain, reaching out as he did so to flip the book cover shut. He couldn't face any more of her words. He couldn't look at that perfect script penciled in the margins, condemning him for not finding his heart and coming back to her sooner. He knew she hadn't meant it that way…but-he let out a heavy breath. This wasn't why he sat down here - it hadn't been to face his demons or his heartbreak - it had been to talk to his little girl.

_I did come back to you! I did! With my heart in my hands! I came back. Jimmy was no wizard…but, neither was the Wizard, right? Stop it! Stop it! That's not what this is about! You have to talk to Jessica. Get yourself together, idiot. This is no time to wallow. This is…_He couldn't even finish the thought. This was not good. Jess breathed in and out a few times, trying to refocus. Eventually he was able to turn and look into the big worried eyes that looked up at him, and tried to smile a reassuring smile. In spite of his best efforts, it came out weak, and wavered more the harder he tried to keep it steady.

"A long time ago," he croaked, "I met a very beautiful girl. She had…a smile…that lit up the world like sunshine - and eyes…as big and as blue as the sky." He drew a long, shaky breath, trying to continue. He hadn't been this close to breaking down in a very long time. "Everybody loved her. They just couldn't help it. After all, when you're made of sunshine and blue sky…" his lips trembled and he left this sentence unfinished, finding his voice. "She used to come with me," he continued, "and we would sit on an old bridge…with our books. And, together, we would open the books, and step inside. We went on so many adventures together. We explored so many places…met so many people…just sitting together on that old bridge, reading our books."

"She gave this to me," he said with that same wavering smile, a little brighter now, and ran his fingertips over the smooth, cool leather. The little girl's eyes went wide. He guessed what might be going on behind those eyes.

"It's okay," he told her, consolingly, "Don't worry about it. It's just that books are not for-" he caught himself. _Books are not for writing in?…is that what you were going to say, Mariano? After all the teachers and librarians who tried to drum that one into your head, are you seriously gonna turn hypocrite and tell your own daughter that "books aren't for writing in!" I am disappointed in you._ Jess shook his head and chuckled to himself, and tried to figure this one out. He looked down again at the dark green book. After all, even more than any of the books he'd penned his own thoughts and observations in again and again over the years, treasuring them more each time, _this_ book was precious to him _because_ it had been written in. With a sigh, he realized something else. In truth, once he let his heart believe it, his little girl had only added to its value. No other book on earth had been written in by the only _two_ girls he had ever loved.

Without hardly realizing what he was doing, he picked up the book and began turning it over and over in his hands, with a thoughtful expression. Making up his mind, he flipped it deliberately open again, this time somewhere in the middle. Jessica's head slunk down in guilt and apprehension, but Jess was lost in his own thoughts, and missed the tiny gesture. He made a conscious effort not to let his eyes focus and read the typed words on the page or the words scrolled in pencil in the margins. He started flipping through pages, searching for some childlike scrawl. He had a strange newborn desire to find it and let himself fall in love with it. He'd flipped through more than half the pages of the book before he found any markings in pen. The first thing that struck him was that these scrawlings didn't obscure any written or typed words. The page was one of those blank pages on the back of one of the illustrations. He rapidly flipped through more pages, and more - on the back of each picture page, were these pen markings. She'd defaced nothing…writing only where it there had been blank paper. The second thing that he realized was that these were no scribblings. On these pages, she had drawn several birds, the sun with what appeared to be an eye in the middle of it, a spider sitting in the middle of a hodgepodge web. He flipped back to the earlier pages, realizing that what he'd taken for scribbles earlier on, had been the same as the later spider webs. Later there were people…trees…flowers. He looked down, sadly, mentally kicking himself again for blowing up at her. _To her it was just paper…and a pen. She found blank paper._ He bit his lower lip and shook his head at his own stupidity. He sighed and turned to smile at the little girl sitting there on his knee, as she looked up at him uncertainly. Finally, he knew something about his daughter. He knew something that she enjoyed.

"You like to draw," he breathed.

ptp-ptp-ptp-ptp

Jess lay in the stillness trying to make some kind of sense out of the day - but none of it seemed to make any sense at all. Where had the day begun, anyway? He couldn't remember. Right, he hadn't slept the night before, so one day ran into the other, blearily, with the hours-long nap thrown in the middle to complete the disorientation. He just wished he could fall asleep again, and push the reset button on the universe.

"It's okay…hush…hush now," he heard her little voice say in the darkness. Jess froze - afraid to breathe. She was talking…talking to her dolly, but still…she was _actually talking_. She sounded like a little grown-up instead of a three-year-old. A smile of relief spread across his face.

"Hush now, Annie…don' be scared…I know…I know he scared you…Iss okay. He won' hurt you…not if you're a good girl."

She went silent, for the bed across the room shook. Jess had flinched, his whole body shuddering. Those few simple words had cut him to the heart. They told him far more than he wanted to know, and not nearly enough.

_Did a split second of anger turn me into a monster? Is she used to being hurt if she isn't a good girl? …How hurt is hurt?… Is she parroting to dolly what she's been told? Or is she so sheltered that the half-second I raised my voice was just jarring and terrifying? Oh, I hope so. …Or has she been in a place where closed fists meant she had to run?_

His eyes screwed shut as he tried to shut out the pain of that thought - his own unshed tears melding with the memory of Liz's crying…_No, stop, plee-he-heeeease! Don't! You're hurting him…stop! Sto-ho-hop!_ His fists clenched so hard his short-cut fingernails bit into the palms of his hands. His mind flashed to Todd, the creep whose affections had tethered Shane in a cat-and-mouse way for all those years. _If he had so much as…_… He seethed. ….._but who knows. It could have been anyone, anything, that made her scared like this._

He loathed the complete void that was his knowledge of what Jessica's life had been up until this point, and who had been a part of it. He hated that he probably would never know. And whatever she had gone through, there was nothing he could do to change it. _All I have is now. And right now - she's scared. Maybe that I can change._

He sat up on the edge of the bed and put on his pants in the dark, then stood and flicked on the light. He saw her flinch.

"Jessica…" he said softly. She eyed him warily. He slowly crossed the room. "I need to talk to you." Reaching out cautiously, he un-rumpled the covers at the foot of her bed, sitting down gingerly, without any sudden movements.

"Today, when I came out of the shower," he spoke gently, "I yelled at you…and I want to tell you that I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to do that, and I know it scared you. I'm sorry for that too." There was a visible, if slight, softening of her rigid shoulders, and of the hard, frightened lines of her features. "And I want you to know that I will never-" He stopped himself in his tracks. As odd as it might sound, the words of Mary Poppins rang in his mind. _That's a pie crust promise. Easily made, easily broken._

He had been going to say, "I will never, ever hurt you," until Mary interjected. _How can I tell her that? That's saying I would never, ever smack her hand for getting into something she shouldn't - never disinfect a cut or a scrape with something that stings - never accidentally step on her toes, or stupidly say something that hurt her feelings, or do a million other things that could happen at any given moment in time and turn me into a liar. It's an impossible promise._

Most people would see this reasoning as nit-picking. But most people hadn't grown up with Liz. Jess considered Mary Poppins to be a dumb kids' movie he'd rather forget he'd ever watched, but with time, Mary's voice piped in almost every time Liz opened her mouth.

"It's my last drink for tonight, honey, I swear!" - "I will never let them take you away from me again." - "This time I'm clean and sober for good. Really! I mean it this time!" - "I'll be here to pick you up as soon as school is over…What's that look for? I'll be here!" - "This is the one, he's really the one. He's gonna be so good to you and me!" - "I'll never let him hit you again." - "It's just you and me now. I've sworn off guys forever! For-EVER!" - "The next place we live won't be a dump like this. It'll have a yard, with a swing for you, and I'll plant a garden…" - "This guy's different than the others…you'll see." - "He's just in a bad mood. You be a good boy, and he's not gonna hurt you." - "You'll never have to find me like that again, I swear to god!" - "No-no-no-no-no….don't flush it! Don't flush it! If you let me have just one, I swear, I'll never touch the stuff again, as long as I live!" - "Just this one more time…just this one more time, honey, that's all it is!" - He remembered finally screaming at her, the veins pulsing in his temples - _When I grow up, and I have a kid, I won't ever, ever lie to them like you do! They're ALL lies! Everything you say! All your promises are pie crust promises! EVERY…SINGLE…ONE!_

That was the day he stopped calling her "mom." He was seven years old.

So, with Mary's voice still echoing through his mind, Jess wondered what he _could_ promise his little girl. He bit down on his lower lip, then let out a deep breath.

"I want you to know," he started again, "that you…never…have to be scared of me. I'm the one who's here to love you, and protect you…and make sure you're always safe. And I will do my very best to keep all the bad, scary things away from you…and not let anything hurt you. And any time you do get hurt, I will _always_ be here to love you, and to kiss it better."

With these words, he smiled tenderly at her, and leaned forward reaching out his hand to brush the hair off her forehead, so he could plant a kiss there - but, before he reached her, she lay down abruptly, rolling to face the wall, pulling Annie close to her chest. His head dropped in defeat, his heart clutching in his chest. His shoulders heaved several times; his hand, now claw-like, covering his face. Eventually the hand dropped from his face. He leaned forward again, rubbing her back through the covers for a moment.

"Good night, Jessica." It was a rough whisper, but that was all that would come out.

Jess rose slowly, went back to his own bed, turned off the light, took off his jeans, and crawled under the covers, staring at the blank, black ceiling. His mind was too full and jumbled to pin down to any one thought. In the swirling, the quotations began to mock him.

"_The Tin Woodman knew very well he had no heart, and therefore he took great care never to be cruel or unkind to anyone." - "I think you are wrong to want a heart. It makes most people unhappy." - "All the same," said the Scarecrow, "I shall ask for brains instead of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a heart if he had one." - "And remember, my sentimental friend, that a heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others." - "Now I know I have a heart, because it's breaking."_


	10. Chapter 9 Too Early

_**A/N: Okay, so this is a cheater chapter, but it does advance the plot, and it was fun. Review, 'cause you like me, even thought you want to kick me for giving you such a short chapter. :D **_

_**I'll try to get the next one up soon.**_

_**Smiles to everybody, especially the people with the beautiful reviews that I'm gradually replying to. (have to give them their due)**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_Chapter 9 - Too Early_

Next morning, Jess' cell rang loudly, waking him at it's-way-too-early o'clock in the morning. Jess swore at it emphatically, before he remembered the presence of his hopefully-still-sleeping daughter in the room. He groaned. _There goes my 4.0. At least she's asleep._ The phone rang again.

"GAH!" he shouted at it in cave-man language, trying to figure out where it was ringing. He finally realized it was in the pocket of his jeans which were lying on the floor just out of arms reach above his head. He did some strange contortions and wound up half-falling off the mattress and box spring, supporting his upper body weight with one arm while he answered it just before it went to voicemail with the other. "_What!"_ he demanded of whoever had the gall to put him through this torture.

"Uh-Good morning?" The gruff-voiced caller was clearly thrown off by the harsh and unusual greeting.

"Luke?" Jess grunted, more gravel in his voice than usual, and tried to push himself back up onto the mattress. The process was painful.

"Yeah-Jess are you okay?" He heard the moaning and creaking through the phone, and Jess' voice really did sound as if he was sick.

"It's not even 7!" Jess shot back, not bothering to disguise the fact that he was _not happy_ to be awakened by the telephone.

"You work," Luke said, explaining his natural assumption. Jess put a hand up to the sandpaper of his unshaven face, yawning.

"Not…." He lost the rest of the sentence. "Off this week," he grumbled, without putting forth the effort to open his mouth all the way.

"Oh. Sorry. I wouldn't have called if I'd known you were-" Luke began.

"Dead?" Jess finished.

"To the world, evidently," Luke said. Jess grunted his assent. "It's just," Luke continued. "I hadn't heard from you in a week, and…last time we talked, you seemed like you kinda were-y'know, worried. So, I thought I'd call, and-see-how things were goin'. How you're doin'. How you and Jessica are-doin'," he inquired in typical Luke fashion.

"I _don't_ wanna talk about it," Jess said, still in his morning voice, but resolutely and completely.

"Oh." This took Luke aback. It never occurred to him that Jess _wouldn't _want to talk about what was going on. He'd seemed so eager to before. This sent up all the red flags. "That sounds bad," Luke observed, the gears in his brain almost squeaking as he struggled with what to say next. "Um…are you sure?" He really didn't need all that time to formulate that one.

"I'm sure," Jess insisted.

"Well…is she at least eating? Has she said anything? Jess, I'm worried. Give me somethin' here," Luke almost begged. Jess keenly felt the spurs dig into his already raw flesh, and bucked.

"Luke, I told you I _don't_ wanna _talk_ about it! Now _LAY OFF!"_ Jess growled with a little more ferocity than he'd intended.

"Jess…" Luke's voice was quiet…more concerned than ever.

"Drop it, Luke. Just drop it, alright?" the anger was gone and the dead tired returned…more weary than irritated now.

"Well, um…okay. I guess-I guess I should go then and let you get back to-uh-" Luke began again.

"Dying." Jess finished for him the second time the same as he had the first.

"Sleep. It's sleep or I don't get off the phone," Luke insisted.

"Whatever," Jess mumbled.

"Goodbye, Jess."

"G'night."

"Morning."

"Frussle-mrrm-uhhhm…"

_Click._


	11. Chapter 10  Bandaids, Hugs Part I

_**A/N: Thank you all for being so patient with me! I really don't know why this chapter has been such a bear to write! I really love it, but filling in the blanks has been like pulling teeth! As a reward for your patience, I'm giving you two updates at once. The next one is also mostly written, so hopefully there will be another update soon. A big thank-you to Kassandra27, without whom the second update would be much less adorable, and without whom I may never have finished any of this! Thank all of you so much for your continued appreciation, reviews, and nagging to actually get this posted. All of it REALLY helps!**_

_**Also, in response to continuing inquiries as to whether this will turn into a Lit-Fic at any point…yes and no ("or to put it another way, no and yes"). Rory is obviously a BIG part of Jess' consciousness throughout all of this - the infamous Truncheon scene happened VERY recently, and so she will continue to be mentioned…probably frequently. She will not actually appear in this story, BUT that does not mean she won't find out about/meet Jessica or that Jess will never see her again. I'm just saving that for sequel material. In fact, all of that will probably take place in "Don't Go," which is posted through chapter 5, so if you haven't read it yet, go check it out when you're finished here. As I have described it to many of you who've asked privately, it's the sequel/prequel/in-between-quel to "Pay the Piper." Right now, it's just passed the prequel phase, and the stories are running slightly parallel, which makes for an interesting juggling match on my part.**_

_**Okay, I'll stop babbling now, and let you read. Enjoy! Let me know what you think.**_

_Chapter 10 - Band-Aids, Hugs and Jam Hands - Part I_

_Sheesh! Why does she have to be like me? Why? At three years old you're not supposed to be able to do this!_

Jess was wheeling Jessica in a cart through the store, trying not to let his frustration show on his face. He was trying so hard to make things up to her. She didn't know that was why they were here. She didn't know that every item in the cart was part of a plan to try to fix everything that he'd clumsily broken the day before. He chided himself about trying to buy her love, but that wasn't what this was about. There had to be some way that she would accept that he was a safe, good person to be around, instead of someone she had to fear.

In one sense, it was a good thing that she acted so much like he did. If it wasn't so much like looking into a mirror, he might not have realized that she didn't trust him again, and that she was nowhere near having forgiven him. She hid it well. She made pleasant, frequent eye contact. It looked open. It looked trusting. It just about killed him that morning when he saw her fake a smile. This tiny, little girl knew what he wanted to see. It was insane. He could swear she was watching every minute movement, his entire body language, and every fleeting expression. She kept the _everything's okay_ mask on, while secretly watching his reaction to every little thing she did, and she didn't risk doing much. He could almost hear her little voice asking, _You're not going to yell at me for this, are you? Are you angry now? How about now? _It was wreaking havoc with his mind.

She kept her mask on, so he kept his. He was being Mr. Chipper, lots of eyebrow raises and flashed grins, quips and even the occasional out-of-character pun. He knew he was trying too hard, but he couldn't let her sense his internal agitation. That would be the worst possible thing he could do. But, he couldn't help but wonder whether his act was just as transparent as her own.

Back at the apartment, Jess began to put his plan into action. Once they'd eaten lunch, he began rearranging his bookshelves. All of his most precious volumes - the ones he'd never be able to replace - he relocated to the top shelves. It completely confounded his ordinary system of bookshelf organization, but it would prevent a repeat of yesterday's performance. Then, he began conspicuously laying the morning's purchases out on the card table, watching his little girl watch him out of the corner of his eye. First, were several packages of band-aids in various colors and patterns. Next, came several magnets in the shape of butterflies. After that, there was a box of crayons, followed by pencils, erasers, a sketch pad and several coloring books. Each item was carefully placed on the table, as if on display. Without turning to meet Jessica's gaze, Jess swung around to the little girl's bookshelf, retrieving all of the books thereupon, and brought them to rest in yet another neat pile on the table.

Jess sat down, glanced at Jessica once, and then turned to the task before him. One at a time, he took Jessica's books in hand, scanned the boxes of band-aids and retrieved the one which most closely matched the color of the book. With each book, he placed the volume between his knees, took out one of the band-aids, grasped the two white tabs and carefully pressed the band-aid onto the book, as if they all had identical wounds on their spines which needed tending-to. As Jessica watched this performance, she quirked one eyebrow at her father's oddity. The reaction pleased Jess, but he didn't show it. When he'd repeated the delicate operation on all of the books in the stack, he set the last one down with a thump, and turned to his little girl, putting his hands on his knees in a decided fashion. He looked into her eyes with a twinkle in his own, and stood up, taking one stride to retrieve one of his own books from the shelf, then resumed his seat.

He looked at her with a suppressed smile in comfortable silence. She looked at him with inquiry, but her eyes faltered against the steady smile, and scanned the ceiling instead, checking every couple of moments to see whether her strange father was still looking at her with his strange expression. Finally, he looked down, opening the book in his hand, the book that was his. He ran his index finger over the margin notes, as if reading them, lips bitten between his teeth, eyes darting from the page to her face and back again.

"I like to write in books," he spoke at last. "I read the book, and I write down whatever I think about it here," he told her, pointing to the lines of neat text. The small girl looked at him with raised eyebrows, but the rest of her expression cautiously guarded. "So…" he continued smiling at her, "anytime you want to write in _your_ books," he shrugged, "that's fine!" His tone had lightened, playfully. "In fact, I encourage it!" Her befuddled eyebrows, questioning eyes, the extended, pondering line of her mouth, and the withdrawn and slightly turned set of her head, clearly said…something. And it driving her dad nuts that he couldn't figure out just what it was. But, not to be confounded by this silent miss, he continued with his half-planned speech. "The question is: How do you know which books are yours?" He picked up the book on top of the stack and pointed to the band-aid adorned spine. "This means, 'this book belongs to Jessica,' so when you see that, you know, it's _yours_ - you can do with it whatever you like - read it, write in it, build forts…" Okay, this was clearly beyond the grasp of a girl-type, only child, three-year-old Jessica. He'd have to introduce her to the fine art of fort building. Her eyebrows made that plain. But, back to the point. "It's _yours._"

"Now, today," he continued, brightly, "I bought you some new books - very _special_ books. Since you love to draw, I bought you special books just for drawing in. And, some pencils and crayons to draw with." As he spoke, he set these books before her, laid out the colorful pencils, and opened the box of crayons. He then sat back and folded his hands, waiting for her to enjoy them. She stared at them, and the smile he'd been expecting didn't come. Her eyes flitted toward him, but timidly stopped shy of his face. She mimicked his posture, sitting back in the chair and folding her hands on the table without touching the prettiness laid before them. He bent his head to look into her face with a puzzled expression. She shrank from it almost imperceptibly. He rubbed the back of his hand across his chin as if scratching an itch as gazed at the little puzzlement before him. Clearly she needed further encouragement to partake in these new joys. _She _liked_ to draw, right?_ He flipped open the sketchbook, and one of the coloring books in turn, showing her the creamy whiteness ready for her creative mind, and the pretty pictures aching for her colors, telling her how they were there just waiting for her. Her face grew worried, and her arms crossed in front of her little chest, hands burrowing into her armpits.

In this moment, Jess wished he didn't understand. He wished her posture didn't recall vividly to mind the times as a child when he'd been forced to do something only to be perversely cursed or beaten for doing it.

"It's okay," he assured her in a tone so soft it nearly purred. "It's okay. This is _yours._ I want you to have it." He extracted a crayon from the box and held it out to her. Her expression faltered, and the folded arms loosened. Slowly, her little hand came out. She still didn't reach for the crayon, but neither did she fight it when he pressed it into her hand. When that same hand just rested on the table, and her eyes still showed nothing but trepidation, Jess reached out slowly, taking her hand in his and guiding it to the paper. He held it reassuringly in his, and together they drew an awkward circle on the page. She was breathing shallowly and rapidly, and her eyes, large and round, shot to his face to read her fate. He broke into a large smile, nodding at her to let her know that everything was all right.

"That's really good," he told her, warmth beaming from his eyes. "Can you do another one?" She heaved a tiny sigh and looked back at the paper, concentrating as she drew a tiny circle next to the larger one. "Beautiful! . . . Don't stop now," he urged, holding out a different colored crayon to her. She took it without hesitance this time, and they continued until the whole page was full.

"Now, this is your book," he reiterated, "and you can keep this in here if you like, but if you _want_ to, we can hang it up on the refrigerator with some butterflies." He held up the magnets with a twinkle in his eye. She pondered for a moment before nodding. He was happy to display this small breakthrough, and again, if he ignored the reason, he could be pleased that it was a collaborative work. Once it was on the fridge, he stood back surveying it for a moment, then turned and saw with pleasure that Jessica had already begun her next drawing.

"Good job," he told her, rubbing his hand up and down on her back - but his smile faded as he felt her stiffen and shrink from his touch. The now familiar ache returned. The ice still hadn't melted. The wall remained. He released a slow, rueful sigh and sank back into his seat, gazing in helplessness at the little girl as she sat absorbed in her artwork, pretending she didn't feel his eyes upon her.

What more could he do?

"Are you ever gonna forgive me?" Jess implored with a troubled look, and a slight warble to his voice. Jessica looked up in obvious surprise, her little eyes wide. "I said I was sorry," he reminded her gently, his voice getting husky in spite of himself, "sorry I yelled at you…sorry I got angry…sorry I scared you." Her face seemed frozen in that surprised look, even as his words seemed to flit behind her eyes, considering. "Can you forgive me? Please?" She looked down at the table, eyes scanning back and forth, and one corner of her mouth twisted to the side, clearly debating the acceptance of this apology.

Finally, she lifted her head a little, her eyebrows raised into two perfect parentheses on her forehead, and she heaved a shallow, determined sigh. Her tiny hand crept over and laid itself on his forearm, reassuringly. It was soft…warm. She nodded with a sweet look, brown on brown, gazing steadily into his eyes. The mask was finally gone. This was his Jessica. At last, he could breathe. His eyes and mouth broke into a warm smile of relief and love.

Jess circled around behind her, wrapping his arms around her small shoulders, hugging her softly to his chest. He bent his head down over hers, and kissed her forehead.

"Thank you," he murmured with his heart in his voice. Jessica craned her neck to look into her dad's face, and her own lit up with a sunshine smile and sparkling eyes. She was loved.

When did life become so simple? "I'm sorry." " Forgive me." "Please." "Thank you." _Hug_. _Kiss_. And, all the world is right again. _Love_. Jess tried to catch his breath. Life just didn't happen this way. It just didn't.


	12. Chapter 11 Bandaids, Hugs Part II

_**A/N: I promised you two updates at once, so here's your reward for being patient. **__**J**_

_Chapter 10 - Band-Aids, Hugs and Jam Hands - Part I_

Jessica sat, making full use of her new sketch pad while Jess worked on the dishes. There was a knock at the door. Jess and Jessica exchanged flummoxed glances. No one came to their door. Who on earth would come to their door?

"One way to find out," Jess mused to her aloud, with a half-shrug, hands outstretched, amused that the first part of the conversation was telepathic…or maybe he'd made that part up. Still, it was fun. He made use of the peep-hole, and his eyebrows shot up. He unfastened the chain and opened the door to reveal a backwards baseball cap, a perpetual 5'oclock scruff, a gift bag, and a whimsically wrapped gift box, held up by beflanneled arms.

"Luke?" Jess' soft gravel voice asked in confusion. Oh, there was no question it was him, but everything else _was _one big question mark.

"Thought it was about time," Luke said awkwardly, "I came, and…met my niece." His eyes shot past Jess momentarily to the little girl sitting at the table, continuing, "…great niece…saw the new apartment." Jess nodded, eyebrows raised - still a little too stunned to realize this was his cue to invite his uncle in. "These are, uh…" Luke stammered, nodding toward the gifts, "…housewarming…sort of…um…for later-they're for later." Jess almost laughed at this, recalling all-too-vividly the last apartment his uncle had _visited_ him in.

"Well-" he half-stammered in return, "come in. Um, I'll stash these - if they're for later," and he relieved Luke of his light burden, looking for a place to put them, momentarily grimacing at the dishes in the sink and the laundry he hadn't finished folding, and stepping aside to grant Luke access to the tiny apartment.

Jessica's eyes darted around uncertainly. Jess hung back, placing the gifts by his bed, eyes flicking back and forth, watching to see what Luke would do - what Jessica would do. Luke stepped hesitantly to the middle of the room, shuffled back and forth a bit, and then went down on one knee, looking as if he were going to say something to the little girl at eye-level. He cleared his throat and nodded, his jaw working in a circular motion as it often did when he was extraordinarily nervous, or under strain. Jessica watched him keenly. Eventually, Luke flung his arms wide in a dramatic shrugging motion - completely at a loss for what to say. Jessica turned puzzled eyes to Jess. Luke did the same, shrugging his shoulders as he did so. Jess chuckled and glanced at the floor for a moment before looking at his little girl with a smile, nodding as he did so.

"Jessica, this is your Grandpa Luke," he said softly, and with affection, following through on a decision he'd made the week before. Luke's face suddenly went slack in disbelief. Jess smiled at him, more with his eyes than his lips, looked down and back up, nodding a small confirmation. _You deserve it, Luke._ And, he knew he'd done the right thing when he saw stone-faced Luke go misty, swallowing hard and beginning to blink rapidly.

He turned his gaze to Jessica, whose whole demeanor seemed to shift at the introduction. Her expression was…eager. Her whole little self suddenly seemed like a small bird, bright and flitting, tilting her head back and forth, taking in this new information cheerfully. She looked up at him with blinking inquiry. Jess couldn't quite make out the reaction. He'd never seen this look before.

He smiled at her and nodded deliberately, finally inclining his head toward Luke, encouraging her to make some kind of contact. A moment later, his jaw hit the floor. Jessica flew into Luke's still outstretched arms, hugging him tightly. A look of astonished bewilderment flashed pure joy across Luke's features. His arms wavered awkwardly in midair for a moment before enveloping the little girl in plaid flannel, a reverent hand drawing the soft curls to rest against his heart. He slowly looked up, overwhelmed with emotion and took in the completely dumbfounded expression on his nephew's face. Jess' open hand covered his gaping mouth, wide eyes unable to recover from the shock. He had yet to learn that his little girl would never cease to amaze him.

After a few moments, Jessica pulled back from the embrace, grasping Luke's flannel clad forearms and looking straight into his face with upturned eyes and a tiny smile that betrayed a little quirk of a dimple halfway between her nose and the outermost edge of the smile. Luke gazed back with a shy smirk that twitched at the corners of his mouth. The little girl seemed well pleased, and gave his arms a tiny squeeze with both her hands before turning back to the table, hopping up and resuming her artwork. Luke rose a bit unsteadily. Jess clapped him on the shoulder in silent congratulations.

"Looks like you're in," he told his uncle, drowning the tiny twinge of jealousy he felt at the instantaneous display of acceptance and affection. He was glad that she'd taken to Luke so readily. This little girl was going to need all the family she could get.

"I…wasn't expecting that," Luke admitted fumblingly. Jess chuckled.

"I think that's the _only_ thing I've learned so far," Jess said with a sigh. Luke turned to him with inquiring eyebrows. "When it comes to kids, you never know what to expect." Luke nodded with what was almost a laugh, and stood there for a moment beaming at his newly acquired grandchild. Jess' voice kept repeating in his head: _Grandpa Luke._ It was wonderful and a bit dizzying. After all, he'd only been called by his new title of _Dad_ within the last three weeks. Those two don't usually come in such rapid succession. Luke let out a long, contented sigh. Jess liked to hear it. His uncle didn't usually get his fair share of contentment, particularly considering how much he did to make everybody else happy.

Turning his gaze from Jessica back to Luke, Jess could see the older man look suddenly down at his arms, contentment shifting to mild distaste. _Odd._ Luke pulled at his sleeve, and then quickly wiped his hands on his jeans - looking up at Jess, perturbed.

"Jam hands!" he exclaimed, with a dramatic gesture toward the little girl, who looked up with interest to see why she was being pointed at. Luke's expression was strangely triumphant. He gestured at Jess as if to say, _See!_

"Don't look at me!" Jess countered, "I don't have any jam in the apartment!"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Luke in jubilance, as if making an important point. Jess' eyes darted back and forth in confusion, thinking momentarily that his uncle had finally flipped his lid, though at what possible provocation, he couldn't guess - other than…_imaginary jam_.

"So-" Jess said abruptly, praying that he could turn Luke's attention from the cause of his perturbation/elation, and on to more steady ground, "the grand tour!" he announced. His eyebrows flickered, accompanying an impish smile. He turned slowly on his heel with arm outstretched toward the apartment's various _attractions._ "The kitchen," he said in a grandiose tone, gesturing toward the sink and miniscule counter, "the parlor," toward the futon, "the library," bookshelves, "the lavatory," bathroom door, "Miss Jessica's sleeping quarters," her bed, "Miss Jessica's private library," her tiny bookshelf, "the foyer," apartment door, "my own sleeping quarters," the mattress and box spring, "the dining room," the card table where Jessica sat, amused at her father's antics, crayon poised above the paper as she watched, "and finally, our own private exhibition hall, featuring the masterpieces of internationally known artist, Jessica Mariano," pointing to the butterfly magnet secured sketches on the refrigerator, with a small bow of acknowledgment to the little girl at the table, who was now beaming. Luke smiled and nodded appreciatively throughout the tour, and ended by finally squinting at Jessica's drawings. "No. It's not a bicycle," Jess told him, before Luke had a chance to say a word about the profusion of rainbow-colored circles on the paper in front of him.

"I like this one better," Luke announced, comparing it with the abstract art in Truncheon that Jess was obviously alluding to.

"So do I," Jess agreed, clapping Luke on the shoulder once again.


	13. Chapter 12 Luke, Jess, Pippilotta

_**A/N: AT LAST! The clouds part and loud choral music blares operatic as the sunshine streams down!**_

_**I think I've decided to rename this chapter. The chapter title is a bit long, but I think you'll appreciate it. Here goes: "This is the Chapter That Never Ends, Yes, It Goes On and On, My Friends. Somebody Started Writing It, Not Knowing What It Was, and She'll Continue Writing It Forever, Just Because This is The Chapter That Never Ends…" Okay, okay, the original title was quite long enough.**_

_**Thank you all SO MUCH for being so patient with me. I apologize deeply that you've had to wait this long for a new chapter! Here's hoping that the next will be CONSIDERABLY faster.**_

_**I hope that meanwhile, you've been enjoying the companion pieces to this fic, as well as EverFixed Mark, and the other stories I've been working on.**_

_**Also, if you happen to enjoy historical fiction, you'll do yourself a favor if you check out "Cimmerian Shade" by Mishazstories over on fictionpress (fanfiction's sister site). She is a dear friend of mine and an awesome writer! She has the entire novel completed, but is very reluctant to publish it in any form, for fear of the reception it will receive. So, if you read, please pepper her with reviews - all your praise and constructive criticism will be truly welcome for a budding authoress.**_

_**Speaking of reviews. I'm aching to see some nice, long reviews for this nice long (in every sense of the word) chapter. In case you can't tell from "Twitterpated," I really LOVE Luke and Jessica together. Pure sweetness!**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_Chapter 12 - Luke, Jess, Pippilotta Delicatessa Windowshade Mackrelmint Ephraim's Daughter Longstocking, and Jam Hands_

"Isn't it strange that her doll doesn't have any clothes? Why doesn't her doll have clothes?" Luke asked, clearly finding this fact disturbing. Jess shrugged dramatically with a pointed gesture toward the doll, as if to say, _It just came that way! How should I know?_ "You should _get_ the doll some clothes." He knew that Luke was right, but that didn't make matters any easier.

"Where do I go to buy doll clothes? Don't the clothes usually come _with_ the doll? Can you even buy them separately?" Jess asked the three questions in succession, showing clearly why Annie was still au naturel.

"I could ask Lorelai," Luke suggested, certain that she would have the answer to any fashion crisis, human or otherwise.

"Right, because _that_ wouldn't require any explanation at all!" Jess countered sarcastically.

"Right…" Luke trailed off, having temporarily forgotten the matter of secrecy. "Well, I bet your mom could-" The sharp look Jess shot him was enough to make Luke halt mid-sentence. "You haven't told…" Jess drew his eyebrows downwards, his head back, and shook his head in an exaggerated fashion while mouthing the word _noooo. _"Jess, you really should…"

"Don't go there, Luke," Jess warned, darkly. Luke inhaled and exhaled pointedly, settling his shoulders with a nod, finding the implied _this is none of your business_ difficult to accept. He crossed his arms across his chest, both men unconscious of their identical stance and the stark contrast they presented to the little girl playing with her doll in front of them. Luke kept silent on the subject for about ten seconds.

"Have you told _anybody?_" he asked Jess, leaning forward and looking at his nephew once again.

"Matt and Chris," he responded, knowing full well this wasn't what Luke meant. Luke frowned questioningly. "Former roommates…business partners…" he explained.

"No…I mean…" Luke trailed off, not wanting to get specific.

"Oh _yeah! _Called up Miss Patty and Kirk first thing! I always make sure they're up to date with the details of my personal life. Thought I'd make sure Miss Patty and Babbette got a jump on East Side Tilly for a change," Jess quipped dryly, pointing out the ludicrous nature of feeding the Stars Hollow gossip mill all the way from Philadelphia. Luke rolled his eyes. "What? You think I'm gonna open it up for general speculation and scrutiny before I tell my own mother?"

"No, I just thought you might-" Luke began.

"No." Jess interrupted him with the answer to his question.

"Well, she did come to your-"

"I said-no." Jess stiffened.

"Because?" Luke asked, eyebrows raised, his head inclined toward Jess in an expectant fashion.

"Look. I can't, all right? There's reasons!" Jess barked.

Tight lipped, Luke gave one short nod. "Reasons that are short, blond, slightly condescending and tend to call Rory, _Ace_?" Luke asked in a tone that returned said condescension. Jess let out a mirthless laugh and looked at his uncle with a tip of the head and a raise of the eyebrows. His shoe scuffed around on the floor and his eyes followed it.

"She deserves to hear this from me-but I _can't_ tell her right now," he responded at length, "and, yeah…that's one of the reasons. She-" he nearly started to tell Luke what had happened that night…or some part of it, but his heart twisted painfully, and he thought about how much it would hurt _Luke_ to think such a thing about _his_ Rory. Jess knew that as much as he was like a son to Luke, Rory was also his little girl. The hardness left his voice, and he said in a whisper saturated with pain, "I can't, Luke…I just can't."

Luke's lips tightened and he swallowed hard, bowing his head. He didn't know what his nephew was going through, but he finally understood that whatever it was, it was too painful to talk about. He sighed and nodded, ready at last to drop the subject, but unsure of how to do so. He lifted his eyes from the floor and glanced around the room. His eyes fell on the pale pink bow and profusion of ribbons the store clerk had deemed appropriate for the gift they adorned. "It's for a little girl," he'd told him, and the clerk was kind enough not to laugh outright, but Luke caught the amused smile before the man turned to select the wrapping paper.

"Presents," Luke said, decidedly, and strode to where the box and bag sat on the floor, retrieving them. Jess was grateful for the reprieve, and used to Luke's brusque floundering in matters of tact. Jessica turned her head to see what her new grandpa was up to. Her dad followed her eyes, and couldn't help but wonder if she even understood the concept of gifts…wrapped gifts, as she didn't spring up and dance around the boxes eagerly, as most children would have. Not that he would have expected her to. That wasn't Jessica's way, but still, she didn't seem to contemplate the fact that these bright treasures could have anything to do with her, and he'd had such difficulty in getting her to understand that the books were hers, the drawing pad, the crayons. He couldn't help but contrast this to the clichéd toddler, throwing a small fit and screaming, "Mine! Mine! Mine!" At least she wasn't spoiled. But…the complete opposite couldn't be emotionally healthy either. He smiled down at her softly, and in a moment, stooped to gather his little girl into his arms.

"Let's go see what Un-" he shook his head, realizing for the first time that this would take some getting used to on his part, "…what Grandpa Luke brought." They made their way over to the futon, and Jess sat, settling Jessica on his lap as Luke brought over the gifts.

"This one's for Jessica," he said, setting the large pastel package on the futon between them. "She might need a little help." Jess chuckled softly. _Really, Luke? I never would've imagined a three-year-old girl would have trouble opening a box more than half her size, secured with tape and ribbons. I'm sure she can handle it all by herself!_ For once, he kept the sarcastic comments to himself. Instead, he found a new home for the pale pink bow, atop Jessica's curls. It was prettier there anyhow, and made her eyes go wide, peering upward in quiet astonishment, and her little dimple come out of hiding. The curling, iridescent ribbons made lovely, if unconventional, bracelets, and Jess carefully peeled the paper back at the places were the tape held it in place, slowly revealing the present that Luke had selected far more carefully than he would have admitted to anyone.

If Jessica's eyes had been saucers before, now they were platters, full of wonder and awe. Jess drew a quick breath. Behind hard, clear plastic, stood the most perfect, beautiful doll he had ever seen…not that he'd seen many…but the smooth, flawless porcelain; the dark, shining ringlets; the intricate lace; the high, old fashioned boots; the tiny gloves; the perfect, miniature buttons; the round, wire-rimmed glasses; the large, innocent, ice blue eyes; the precious, childlike, shy smile with rosy lips and plump, pink cheeks…and, most of all, the fact that she was holding a book…it was utterly perfect. Jess glanced at Luke, amazed, and then looked down at his little girl. She was breathless, taking in every detail of the doll in obvious dazzled delight.

Jess opened the box and gently pulled the splendid doll out and set it before Jessica's wide eyes.

"I figured…little girls like dolls," Luke said with a shrug. _Elaborate thought process, that one._

"Yes…yes, they do," Jess smirked with pleasure, watching his daughter's immense joy in the present. She seemed wholly uncertain whether she was _really_ allowed to touch this new, bright treasure, or if she was just supposed to look at her, so she and Annie both approached with wide-eyed, excited, caution.

"You gonna open yours?" Luke asked, indicating the bag.

"Oh. This is mine?" Jess asked, a little surprised, though he wasn't sure why he should be…just…he tried to remember if he'd ever gotten a gift specifically from his uncle. He was sure he must've, but, at the moment, any such memory was escaping him.

"Well…It's for both of you, but…mostly you," Luke responded cryptically. When Jess saw what it was, he spluttered. This was _his _gift? _Sure!_

"_Pippi Longstocking?"_ He looked up at Luke in utter disbelief. "You bought me…Pippi Longstocking? Two! Not one, TWO versions of Pippi Longstocking!" He tilted his head and looked at his uncle as if he were deranged. "Have you _seen_ Pippi Longstocking!"

"Have you?" Luke countered.

"No…I consider myself _male!_" he shot back, not even trying to contain his laughter. "You seriously watched this?"

"It's something I watched once with Rory and Lorelai." Luke diplomatically refrained from mentioning Dean. Jess wished he'd diplomatically refrained from mentioning Rory. His laughter subsided, but he perversely continued mocking.

"And you would agree to this, _because?_" he prompted.

"It was at the Black & White & Read. Their regular feature broke. It was that or watch _Kirk. act._"

"So, hello Pippi Longstocking," Jess concluded.

"Exactly."

"Or, _hello_, rent a movie and take it back to Lorelai's place!" he corrected, wondering how this solution hadn't occurred to any of them, with their famous, junk-food-filled movie nights.

"Rory and Lorelai wanted to watch Pippi," Luke said with a shrug.

Jess shook his head from side to side as if sad for the man. "One word: _whipped!_"

"Do not mock!" Luke warned.

"Do not tell me not to mock the mockable! I mean, if you told me you'd watched it with April, then _maybe-_"

"It's not April's kind of movie. Right now, she's too grown up for everything. Definitely too grown-up for a kid's movie with singing."

"There's _singing?_" he deadpanned incredulously. Though no one would have guessed it, Jess actually didn't mind musicals, kind of enjoyed them, oddly and mockably enough, but singing in children's movies tended to be _beyond painful._

"This is for Jessica."

"There's singing. You've got to be kidding me." He glared at Luke. "And I _thought_ you said this was for _me._"

"I think it could help."

"Help-?" Jess couldn't see where Luke was coming from with this one.

"It's about a little girl who is smart, and strong, and has the ability to do amazing things, all because her dad taught her to believe in herself." Jess looked at the floor. He looked at his little girl. His fist raised against his lips as he let out a laugh that wasn't a laugh, and nodded wordlessly.

"Guess I'd better pick up a television."

"Now, I know what to get you for an actual housewarming present," Luke said. Jess looked at him with a sidelong warning. "Well, that isn't exactly a housewarming gift," he acknowledged. Jess laughed, then bit his lips together, looking over at his little girl, and then back to Luke.

"But, it was very thoughtful. Thank you," he said softly.

Luke's eyes widened. Every time he thought he'd gotten the hang of Jess…he changed…but still, somehow managed to stay the same. Luke breathed a quick sigh through his nose. "Let me take you out to dinner," he suggested abruptly.

"What?" Jess asked his uncle, confused.

"You and Jessica," he clarified.

"I got that much, why? We've got food here," he assured his uncle.

"Because I want to... you know, to celebrate." There was a warmth in Luke's eyes as he said it, even through his own, natural, fumbling way of conveying information.

"Celebrate what?" Jess asked. Luke's eyes drifted to the little girl and his lips twitched with stifled emotion. He looked back at Jess, steadily.

"A welcome home?" Luke suggested tentatively. Jess looked down, trying to disguise the sudden lump in his throat with a hint of a laugh. "Besides," Luke continued, "Three years ago, there ought to have been a celebration…" His rough, calloused hand clapped Jess on the shoulder, more gently than the gesture usually came. "Never was much for cigars, but there should have been some kind of celebration," he explained. "We missed it."

Jess kept his eyes on the floor, trailing around the room, not trusting them to meet his uncle's just then. He nodded, trying to find words, but none came.

"Jess," Luke sighed. "You're a father now, you're in the…club."

"There's a club?" Jess asked his uncle, bemused at the phrase that sounded so little like his uncle, except in its awkwardness.

Luke sighed again, "Just let me take you out, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. This is your town. So, where should we go?"

"Depends. What are you in the mood for?"

"No, no. This is my treat, so you pick the place."

"Okay…how hungry are you?"

"Why?"

"Well, 'cause the place I'd go, it'll be awhile. It's worth it, but you've gotta call ahead, _and _you gotta wait. Which is all well and good, if you got family, friends, time to chat, all that jazz. But, if you're gonna pass out sitting there waiting, it's no good. So…" he shrugged and extended his hands to Luke, asking for a response.

"I'm fine, as long as you and…" he trailed off, motioning to Jessica.

Jess shrugged with a _no biggie_ look, "It's early-late lunch. So, I should call? It's pizza-no salads or anything else-and you gotta bring your own beer, if you want it-just to warn you."

"You have to make a reservation for pizza?" Luke looked skeptical.

"Fresh dough, limited quantity, always sold out by the end of the night. More of a Philadelphia institution than just pizza." Luke looked mildly impressed.

"So, call! I can pick up beer on the way," Luke offered. Jess gave a thumbs up with his left hand while pulling out his cell with his right.

An hour later they were pulling up in front of Tacconelli's. Jess was explaining more about the place. Luke had a smile in his eyes and Jessica was drumming a soft, happy beat with her swinging feet, listening to her dad's cheerful voice and waiting to be released from the captivity of her car seat.

"Zero ambiance, paper plates and Styrofoam cups, _but_ it's _fifth_ generation, straight from Italy, brick oven. The original owner built the first one back in the 20's-shame they had to re-do it, but it was something like seventy year old! That's a lotta pizzas! But, they call them tomato pies, actually…" Jess shrugged offhandedly and rubbed his knuckles across his lips as Luke nodded appreciatively. "So…I…should…shut up so we can go eat!" Luke chuckled and Jess didn't have to wonder why. He _never_ talked this much. He wasn't sure if it was having an adult to talk to, or having somebody who at least occasionally talked back, or if he'd just really missed his uncle.

Luke retrieved the cooler of beer and Jess extracted his little girl from the contraption he'd actually gotten the hang of by now. They made their way inside and it wasn't terribly long until their table was ready.

As soon as they sat, an awkward silence descended upon the table. Such things are rarely explainable, and this was no exception. Jess had been chattering away in the car and as they stood in line. It may very well have been the first time he'd ever spoken in such a way that could be described as chattering. But, as soon as his knees bent and he looked across the wooden tabletop at Luke, his words dried up. The silence was empty, though spattered with other people's conversations in the background, and Luke shifted uncomfortably, clearly wishing he had words with which to fill it. He raised his eyebrows with the deliverance of a sudden thought. He bent down to the cooler and pulled out two beers, one after the other, setting one on the table in front of him and holding the other out to Jess. The younger held up his hand in the universal gesture meaning _no, thanks._ He shrugged.

"I'll get some soda when the pizza comes," he said dismissively. Luke frowned.

"We won't be back on the road for two…three hours," Luke assured him, assuming his nephew was acting the part of the designated driver. Jess shrugged again and shook his head.

"S'ok. The soda's fine, really." He looked nervous, which didn't do much to ease the tension of the trio. When Luke tipped his head and looked at him more inquiringly, it really didn't help to allay his nerves. Jess eyes rested on the surface of the table as the fingers of one hand drummed quickly on the wood, the other hand resting uneasily atop it. Luke withdrew his gaze, frowning quickly and then looking for something else to occupy the awkward silence.

With no warning, Luke launched into a tirade about a local sports team. The rapid, loud flow of words caused both Jess and Jessica to jump just a hair. Jess' eyes widened, and he tried not to betray by his expression that he actually had no idea what Luke was talking about. He'd never really…followed sports. He didn't own a television. But it would violate the 'guy code' to reveal any of this information. Besides, Luke had been an athlete in his younger years. A good one if the stories were to be believed. And, he remembered a couple of occasions when Luke had tried to show him how to hit a baseball (should've been a warm, fuzzy moment…would've been if it hadn't involved a baseball bat…Luke had no way of knowing…he only knew that the kid couldn't seem to hit the ball, couldn't seem to focus), how to throw a football (would've gotten the hang of it with more practice). Sports were important to Luke. So, Jess let the words flow over him as he nodded in believable appreciation.

"They've blown every one of the top contenders completely out of the running! It's been a helluva season!" This sentence actually got a reaction out of Jess. He glared pointedly at Luke. Luke was clearly confused. He intensified the glare and flicked his eyes deliberately toward the golden-haired girl in the booster seat next to him.

The incredulous expression Luke wore required no explanation. _Jess-my nephew, Jess-Jess Mariano, turned down a beer, and as good as told me to watch my language around his kid! _If he could have pinched himself unobtrusively, he probably would have done so. As it was, he sat there, dumbfounded.

Jess resumed drumming his fingers. He leaned back and looked over at Jessica, eyebrows raised in a _Hi, there! How ya doin'?_ kind of way. Jessica looked back with her large brown eyes unreassuringly curious. She looked from her dad to her 'grandpa' and back again, clearly trying to figure out what was going on. She looked at Luke again, her little head tilting sideways. Luke looked up, raising his eyebrows inquiringly at her expression. She darted her eyes toward her dad significantly, as if telling Luke to talk to him. It didn't work. She looked at her dad who had watched the exchange, but was now looking at her again. She tilted her head toward Luke, giving him the same message in reverse. Didn't work any better on him. Now both men were watching the little girl. She heaved an exasperated sigh, put elbow deliberately on the table and rested her cheek on her upturned hand. From this position, her eyes went from Jess to Luke, Luke to Jess, letting them know just how ridiculous they were being.

Luke's head dropped forward, stunned at the way the girl 'spoke' to the two adults without saying a word.

Jess grinned for a second and then bit his lips together, stifling the grin into a smirk and shook his head. She was fluent. She was fluent, and he was _so proud._ His eyes twinkled with mischief. He heaved a sigh of mock exasperation, put his elbow deliberately on the table and rested the side of his face on his upturned hand. From this position, his eyes went from Jessica to Luke, Luke to Jessica.

A smile twitched at the corner of Luke's mouth. He looked from father to daughter and shook his head. He laughed silently. "All right, cut that out Jess," he instructed in an affectionate tone that told Jess to stop being childish. Jess sat back immediately, ineffectually hiding a smile, amused and gratified by the reaction. Jessica watched the interchange keenly, expression showing how she stored it all up in her little mind. She hadn't gotten many opportunities to see her father interact with others, with family, it was a first. Jess had very little idea how much these tiny precious moments shaped a child's perception of the world. He was learning, quickly.

"So, Jess," Luke began, after swallowing his second bite of pizza - some of the best pizza he'd ever tasted, he'd been forced to acknowledge. "I never really got a chance to ask you about your business…books…publishing…editing…putting out your own magazine-how did you know how to do all that?" Luke asked, blinking forcefully with a slight shrugging motion. Jess finished chewing and wiped some tomato sauce from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand while scouting around for missing napkins.

"Went to some business classes," he responded, casually, but keeping his eyes mainly on the table, which the acquisition and use of the napkins made easier.

"_You_ took _business classes?" _Luke asked disbelievingly, leaning forward, wide-eyed. "Do they _let _you-" he began.

"I got my GED while I was in California." Jess interrupted in a quiet tone, but finally met Luke's gaze, still apprehensive about how Luke would take this.

"You-" Luke started, but seemed to choke on the rest of the sentence. He sat there open-mouthed and frozen for longer than anyone in the room was comfortable with.

"Breathe, Uncle Luke!" Jess said finally, afraid he was going to turn ashen in a moment.

"But I thought that-" This sentence didn't seem destined to be completed either. Fortunately, Jess was fluent in Luke.

"Let's just say you'd _still_ hate Jimmy's guts, but given half the chance, you'd _love_ Sasha!" In reply to the shift in Luke's head and eyebrows, Jess clarified, "Jimmy's girlfriend." Luke snorted. "Don't laugh! You would. She's got a way of getting people to do things…It's a little uncanny! I think that's why she _works_ for Jimmy. She can get anybody to do anything." He paused. "I mean, I'm sure I would've gotten around to it eventually, but…"

"She got you to do it," Luke seemed understandably disgruntled by this. Jess shrugged lightly.

"She signed me up for the test, 'happened' to drive me down there while she was running 'errands.' I would've had to make myself look dumb, or…like a complete jerk to get out of it, so I went in and took the test." Jess let out a tiny rueful laugh. "_That's_ Sasha. She tricks people into…making life better for themselves."

Luke's expression still bespoke doubtfulness about the character of any woman willing to attach herself to Jimmy Mariano. "She's a lot like Lorelai-except…calmer," Jess elaborated. This was all that was needed to explain her powers of persuasion.

"Speaking of which," Jess segued, "how are things going there?" He grabbed a handful of napkins from the newly located dispenser and turned to wipe Jessica's face, as it was gradually becoming completely obscured by tomato sauce. "I mean…June's right around the corner. I don't even know how you can _be _here. I would've thought Lorelai would have you up to your eyeballs in wedding plans. As it is, I don't even know…am I supposed to be throwing you a bachelor party? And, isn't something about the tuxes my job? I don't know how it works." The longer Jess talked, the more he got the sense that his uncle was becoming distinctly uncomfortable. Jess finished helping his little girl and shifted, resting his mouth against his fist and looking at Luke keenly, unable to shake a sense of foreboding.

"The wedding's…been postponed," Luke answered finally, trying to look as if this was a casual thing to say-a _no big deal. _Jess' arm came down quickly, horizontal on the table and gave Luke a hard look.

"Why?" Jess didn't skirt around the issue. His uncle had been pining for this woman too long for something to derail their happiness now.

"It's the whole April issue," Luke explained. "I need time to-adjust-build a relationship with her. _You_ understand that." Jess looked away an inch or two, gazing out the window. He understood better than he cared to admit. Finally, he sighed, nodding. Only half voluntarily, he glancing down at their silent dinner partner who was watching the conversation as if it were a tennis match. He sighed a second time.

"Yeah. I do." He'd been wondering how on earth he was going to reconcile being a part of Luke's wedding with keeping Jessica's _existence _from the nosy residents of Stars Hollow. He hadn't exactly formulated a plan on that one yet. The furthest he'd figured was that maybe the rehearsals would let him square things with Rory enough that he could actually get around to telling her. The logistics were murder though.

"Lorelai does too," Luke said soberly - and he really believed it. "So, we've decided to put the wedding off for a little while. Just long enough to…figure out how to deal with the whole situation."

"That's rough," Jess empathized, "but I get it. Things take time. I'm just glad Lorelai sees it that way too." Luke nodded.

When they'd returned to the apartment, Jessica was immediately drawn to her wondrous doll. Her dad and her 'grandpa' couldn't help but smile. It was that awkward, hesitant, self-conscious half-smile that they both possessed, and again, neither realized just how much of a mirror image they presented, just for a moment - and the little girl wouldn't make this observation consciously until some time later. If for no other reason, because she was far too intent on 'dolly' to pay heed to what they said or did at present. Jess made a comment about her attachment to Annie - _practically Siamese twins._ Luke mentioned a doll his mother had at that age - _dragged it around with her everywhere. Don't think there was a stitch left of that thing by the time she was through with it._ It unnerved Jess a little to think of Liz in the same context as his little girl. More than a little, really. He hated to think of the fact that they were related. It made his stomach threaten to churn. He plastered a faint fake smile on his face, though. Luke was talking about his baby sister. It was a pleasant memory for him. But, he didn't want to discuss Liz further.

"So, where'd you find that thing?" Jess asked, referring to the doll. It was a natural segue, but Luke didn't miss the acutely uncomfortable body language that accompanied it. And it apparently reminded him of something. He began pacing.

The two men were still conversing easily, but Jess watched his erratic movements with both amusement and confusion. As he paced, his eyes darted several times to the refrigerator. _Was this about the jam again? _Abruptly, Luke turned and surreptitiously opened the refrigerator, and stooping, looked inside, checking the shelves. _Checking on how healthfully we eat? Whether we're low on funds?_ He closed the fridge, and looked around nervously as if Jess wasn't supposed to have noticed that he'd been looking.

Jess raised one eyebrow. "Still hungry?"

Luke shrugged and shook his head. "No…no," he denied, and began swinging his arms at his sides - a clear indication that something was on his mind.

"Thirsty?"

"I'm…I'm fine." He nodded, clearly wishing he hadn't opened the refrigerator in the first place.

"What were you doing?" Jess smirked. Luke's discomfort made pursuing the subject irresistible.

"Nothing," he insisted, beginning to shuffle his feet. He shook his head again. "Nothing."

"Checking for monsters?" His smirk magnified as he continued the torture. "I promise you I _don't_ keep any girls in there."

Luke glared at him and decided in the interests of self-preservation to stop being evasive. "Just wondering if you had any beer."

Jess' single eyebrow quirked up again. "You're getting to be quite a lush," he teased dryly.

"I didn't say I _wanted_ a beer," Luke defended.

This time both Jess' eyebrows shot up. He didn't question why Luke would check his fridge for beer when he didn't want any. He had a fair idea what would make him do so, and his voice lost all its teasing.

"Alcoholism runs in families," he stated without further explanation.

Luke stared at him blankly for a long moment. His eyes shot open. "You mean-?"

Jess had turned and was looking plaintively at the small girl who was sitting on her bed reverently fingering her new doll with featherlike touch. She still clutched Annie with her left arm, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the wonder that was this pink and white loveliness, dressed in lace He gazed silently, the expression etched on his features was that of a man who sees his heart before him in human form, tormented by the realization that a breath could make it shatter. He didn't turn back to Luke. His whisper was thick, and sounded grief-stricken. "It's not worth the risk."

Picking his jaw up off the floor and dabbing at misty eyes, Luke looked away, suddenly feeling as if he was intruding upon something too personal, something secret and tender. And he realized with a sense of amazement that his nephew had changed even more in the last three weeks than he had in the last three years. Considering the metamorphosis of the last three years, unless he had seen it with his own eyes, he would not have believed it to be possible.

"She sure has taken to you," Jess commented, his tone surprised but mingled with a note of pleasure and curiosity.

The two men had settled into conversation on the futon and one of the kitchen chairs. After a short time, Jessica detached herself from the spell of the new doll and came over to the couch, without invitation or question, clambered into the lap of an astonished Luke, and in only about ten minutes, nodded off to sleep.

Luke shrugged with one shoulder, obviously careful to avoid needlessly jostling the little occupant of his other shoulder. "Maybe she…I dunno, _smells_ April on me or something," said Luke, which caused Jess to choke momentarily on his root beer.

"She's not a dog, Luke!" he laughed, thinking that _only _his uncle would think of this sort of explanation.

"No, I know," Luke hastened to rectify, "it's just that-kids-never liked me before…until April, really. And now-it seems like-I'm not the greatest with them or anything, but they seem to almost _like_ me for some strange reason." Jess couldn't help but pity his uncle's ignorance. Luke never seemed to realize that anyone liked him. _Must be a family trait._

"It _didn't_ start with April, Luke," he told him. Luke raised his eyebrows. "I think you're forgetting Rory," he said softly, surprised that he was able to say her name without the pain being too bad. He looked at the floor for a moment or two, before adding, almost under his breath, "and me." He couldn't look up right away. However slight it might be, such a personal revelation was still opening up a possibility of rejection - showing a vulnerable spot. As he glanced up at Luke's face from the corner of his eye, he realized that he was still pulling the same act with Luke that Jessica had been giving him this morning. He sighed. He trusted Luke. He did. So, why the mask?

"You…_liked _me…as a kid, Jess?" He could hear it in Luke's tone. He was cringing too at opening up his own vulnerability - opening himself up to his nephew's potential rejection - to the sarcastic barb that would surely follow. _Huh. Must be a family trait. _When he was a kid, had he really never betrayed in word or action that he did _like_ his uncle? _Good grief. Worship was more like it - but Luke will NEVER know that. NEVER._

"Guess it didn't show," Jess said, acknowledging the fact with reluctance. After all, he'd already said it once.

"I thought you hated me," Luke told him honestly. Jess cringed. _Stupid mask. _He hoped he could help his daughter to shed it for good. It certainly caused trouble in the long run. Jess shook his head.

"Nope," he replied simply. "Just wasn't that open," he expanded, nodding his head toward the sleeping sweetness in Luke's arms. Luke looked down at her with an expression Jess had never seen on his uncle's face. All the ruggedness, the world-weary care, and the sarcastic grumble seemed to melt out of him completely, leaving just a _this little one has completely stolen my heart_ look on his face.

"She's an awfully good kid, Jess," Luke told him wistfully, without taking his eyes off this _awfully good kid_ as he spoke. Jess smiled proudly. "You're doin' a good job with her. You know that, right?" Luke asked. Jess scoffed a little - but then looked up gratefully at Luke. He couldn't believe he was hearing this - not after the chaos the last couple of days had brought. But, Luke was sitting there, meaning every word.

"Thanks, Luke." The moment hung in the air between them. Nothing more needed to be said. Jess finally let his eyes drop self-consciously as one corner of his mouth turned reluctantly upward. He glanced across the room at the glow of the digital alarm clock that sat on the floor by the wall near his bed.

"It's gettin' kinda late. Why don't you crash here tonight?" he offered, and bit his lip, looking up at Luke. He appreciated his uncle's company and, frankly, didn't want it to end. Luke didn't either, though his nephew's company was only part of it. This was the first time he'd held a sleeping child in his arms, and the spell was intoxicating. Still, he dreaded being an imposition.

"You don't…have room for me. I don't wanna put you out," he replied gruffly, giving no indication of how little persuasion he required.

"Nonsense!" Jess told him. "You take my bed. I'll perfectly comfortable on the futon. I'll fold it out and everything."

"There's room for that?" Luke asked, dubiously, looking around the small room.

"Sure," Jess assured him. "There won't be any room to walk, but, if any of us need to use the bathroom during the night, we can just walk over each other," he joked.

"You sure about this?" Luke verified.

"Oh yeah," Jess told him genuinely, "knock out a wall if I have to." Luke smiled at this, glancing again around the dimly-lit apartment, realizing for the first time that it wasn't too much smaller than his own had been once-upon-a-time…and he'd tried to share it with a teenager! Jess wasn't doing too badly for himself. He glanced down again at the sleeping girl in his arms. Not too badly at all. He looked up to see Jess looking at him with laughter in his eyes. "In the morning, we'll hold hands and skip."

In the morning, Jess shouldn't have been surprised to wake up to the smell of pancakes, frying bacon and coffee. Actually, he wasn't surprised - at least not at first. Before he opened his eyes, with those smells greeting his nostrils, and his ears filled with the sound of his uncle rattling around the stove, he was seventeen again, waking up in the apartment above the diner. He was only surprised when his eyes opened, and he found himself lying on the futon in his own apartment. He peered around the blankets to see his uncle at the stove, busily flipping and frying, while his little girl sat at the table watching him with her chin in her hands and her legs dangling and swinging back and forth as she watched. There was a syrupy plate and an empty cup in front of her, indicating that her breakfast had already been eaten. But, when the next pancake was finished, Luke reached over and picked up the little girl's plate, putting the pancake on it, cutting it into bite sized pieces and drizzling syrup on it before setting it down again in front of a beaming Jessica. Jess chuckled as he swung his legs over the side of the futon and pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Smells good!" he said to Luke, between a yawn and a stretch. Jessica looked up and flashed him a smile. She sprang from her seat and was at his side in a moment.

"Come sit down. Yours will be ready in a sec." Luke said without turning around. Jessica took hold of his hand with her small, sticky one and led him to the table. Jess smiled down at this unusual display of cheerfulness. She was almost skipping. He couldn't suppress a chuckle. _In the morning, we'll hold hands and skip._ Jessica's bright eyes turned to his, mutely asking what made him laugh. He smiled bigger, but shook his head, in an _it's nothing_ gesture, then bit back the grin, and covered it with his other hand, but it stayed in his eyes for the world to see.

None of them wanted Luke to go…possibly Luke least of all. But, the diner wouldn't continue to run itself. And he couldn't keep avoiding Lorelai. A part of him knew that was what he was doing. Luke wasn't a man prone to introspection and so he really couldn't say _why_ he was avoiding her. He wouldn't even wholly acknowledge that was what he was doing. But, the part of him that did know it, knew that it was because he was scared, but since he wasn't paying any attention to that part, he hadn't really stopped to consider: _scared of what?_ Regardless - he had to get back to the diner, to Lorelai, and to life as he knew it.

Jess didn't know these things that occupied his uncle's mind. He did know that Luke was leaving behind an empty space. He usually didn't dwell on the space in his life, the regular everyday space that his subconscious told him his uncle was supposed to occupy. But as Luke was gathering his meager belongings into the old green truck and standing there on the sidewalk, that space was glaringly apparent.

It was worse when Luke stood there looking down at his little girl. The look of undisguised bright-as-the-sun happiness that he wore, just because the little girl was looking up at him, was something he wished she could have regular doses of…daily. Daily doses of that sunshine would do wonders for the quiet flower. He knew it.

Jessica peered upward at Luke from a tilted, downcast head, eyes gleaming, a tiny coy smile upon her lips. It was the first time Jess had really taken notice of the beautiful, long lashes she gazed from beneath, or just how devastating that look she wore could actually be. He looked at the pavement at his feet, biting the corner of his lip and shaking his head, absently thinking of the boys he'd have to fend off in about ten years. _Sheesh! It might not even take that long! Somehow I have a feeling that elementary school staff tend to frown on fathers hanging around school playgrounds, advancing menacingly at any little boys who dare to look at their daughters…just when I thought I was through getting in trouble with principals!_ He smirked.

It took a few moments to realize that Luke was looking at him now. His head snapped up abruptly, eyes bright with a dazed expectancy.

"I guess I don't hafta tell you to take good care of her," Luke observed, a remnant of the previous smile left in his lips, a good portion of it still in his eyes. Jess lifted one side of his mouth in an appreciative smile.

"Nope," he replied, returning Luke's gaze steadily. He and Luke didn't need an abundance of words. They never had. Luke seemed pleased at the steady warmth.

"But you'll forget to take care of you," he added knowingly, in a tone of admonishment. Jess almost laughed. It had taken a lot of years, but in that moment, he felt himself on a somewhat equal footing with the man who had raised him, as much as anyone on the face of the earth could have been said to raise him, other than himself. He'd been self-sufficient out of necessity since he was a very small child. But, just like his uncle, he'd always been more focused on taking care of everybody else. There had been a time that Luke failed to see this. It was a relief to know that time had passed. Still, Luke couldn't say such a thing without 'three fingers pointing back.'

"You're the pot. I'm just the kettle," Jess replied slowly, eyes lit from within. Luke's head dipped forward in reluctant acknowledgement.

"Well, then…I'll take care of me…if you'll take care of you," he said, his voice a little quieter and a little rougher than usual, thick with emotion from the sentiment behind his nephew's words, eyes sunk to the level of Jessica's shoes. Jess stuck out his lower lip, nodding slowly.

"Deal," Jess agreed, sticking out his hand, knowing…counting on, actually, the fact that Luke would clasp it only briefly as he pulled him into the hug they both needed. Unexpected fatherhood was enriching both their lives, taxing both their reserves, and pointing out more clearly than almost anything else, just how little they each had of human, family connection beyond one girl they hadn't known existed.

"Thanks for coming, Luke," he said quietly as Luke's arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders, his calloused hand clapping him on the back.

As they stepped backward, Jess felt a wave of apprehension. Things were falling apart for Luke. He didn't know just how, but they were. He could feel it. But, if Luke wouldn't admit it, who was he to say anything? He hoped Luke really would take care. Luke deserved to be happy.

He had no time to reflect further on this, however.

Luke turned from him to the little girl who looked up at him adoringly, and what he did next would be forever etched in her mind as her first memory of her Grandpa Luke. He bent down and scooped her up, swooping in an upward arc, tossing her high in the air, or at least it seemed so to her. The little girl's eyes danced as if she were flying. He caught her easily and brought her gently to the ground. His blue eyes sparkled directly into her brown ones, and his thumb brushed her cheek in a quick, affectionate motion, smiling.

"Goodbye, Jam Hands!"

_**A/N: Wow! You stuck it out through the whole chapter! Here's a cookie! Now all your delicious morsels of observation in the review box, pretty please with melting, fresh out of the oven chocolate chips on top!**_


	14. Chapter 12 Mystery Woman and Her Felicit

_Chapter 13 - Mystery Woman and Her Felicitations_

"Who's Lisette Schoenberg?" Matthew stood thumbing through the mail that had been delivered to Truncheon Books. Bills, manuscripts, advertisements, more bills, more advertisements…package.

Chris looked up from the stack of books he was shelving. "Schoenberg?" He shrugged. "Doesn't ring a bell." He raised his eyebrows briefly pausing before sliding the books up straight on the shelf to make room for those he was adding.

"Well, maybe that's because I wasn't asking you," Matthew poked. "Jess?" He was standing, dark, curly pate stooped over the counter near the cash register, Jessica perched atop said counter along with Annie and her new dolly, the trio attentive, for he was reading to them softly tales of the Hundred Acre Wood. His eyes flicked up at the sound of his name.

"Hmm?"

"Who's Lisette Shoenberg?" his often manic coworker repeated, the expression in his hazel eyes only vaguely curious.

"How should I know?" Jess remarked with a half-scowl, eyes falling down upon the page he'd been reading, thumb scraping toward the corner, ready to turn to the words and pictures printed on the following leaf.

"Whoever she is, she sent you a package." Jess' eyes returned upward at this, mildly surprised, scanning his memory. "Address handwritten." Full scowl was now in force as Jess rubbed his forefinger roughly back and forth across his brow in an absent motion as he tried to recall hearing the name before. His little girl watched patiently. This was interrupting her story, and she was eager to hear if the bees were smart enough to know the difference between rain clouds and dripping bears held up in the sky by balloons.

"Lemme see," he muttered, holding out his hand for the cardboard box. Matthew crossed the room and handed it to him. The guys were getting used to such extra movements, to keep Jess from needing to leave his daughter's side…especially in situations such as the present where she was potentially in a precarious situation. Jess glanced at the address label in concentration for a moment before recognition softened the expression and replaced it with a hint of a smile as he reached for a letter opener.

"So, who is it?" Matt persisted, seeing Jess remembered whoever this was.

"Nosy much?" Jess accused mildly, reaching to tug Jessica further from the counter's edge and then beginning to tear at the box's tape.

"Defensive much?" Matthew shot back, turnabout being fair play. Jess stuck out his lower lip, half-shrugging.

"Not really," was all he said. He'd gotten the box open now and pulled out a piece of paper that looked suspiciously like a letter. Matt stuck his nose beneath the paper to peer into the box.

"She sends you books? Intrigue!" Jess smirked at Matthew's comment, even as his eyes held something warmer as he read the words written in a delicate handwritten script.

"Owns a bookstore…" he mumbled, continuing to read. Chris' head shot up.

"Sleeping with the enemy?" he accused swiftly. Matt _oooh_ed at the possibility. Jess could have let out a hoot of laughter at this, but glared instead. "Fraternizing…with the enemy."

"Maybe a little fraternizing," Jess admitted with a fraction of a smile. He pulled the books from their box.

"She sends you Silverstein?" Matthew asked, mildly puzzled.

"For Jessica," Jess explained. Chris' eyes widened and the corner of his mouth quirked up knowingly.

"Mystery bookstore woman sends gifts for your daughter…smooth," he admired, biting his lower lip and nodding slowly. Matthew flipped half the box top over so that the address label was in view.

"A clandestine tryst with a bookstore owner in New York…impressive," Matt mused. Jess was finding it more and more difficult to hide his amusement. If the two of them knew that they were ribbing him about a silver-haired widow! …spinster? Did it matter which? The other side of sixty years old, whatever her present or past marital status. Jess let them talk. It amused him and might get them off his case in the _you've got to move on with your life_ department. It was all good.

He turned the books over, one after the other, in his hands. _Where the Sidewalk Ends, A Light in the Attic, Falling Up, The Missing Piece, _and_ Runny Babbit. _A strange smirk played around the corners of his mouth and the corners of his eyes and threatened to break out into an all-out smile several times. He looked back at the letter, and the smile came softly.

_Dear Mr. Mariano,_

_Will you think me quite foolish if I say that no more than half a day goes by without some stray thoughts of your visit to my shop…along with your sweet bundle of Jessica…traipsing through the pathways of my mind? Quite often less than half a day, in point of fact. Perhaps this is a testimony to the quiet often undisturbed sameness of my days…how little company I keep, other than the throngs of friends on my bookshelves. In any case, foolish though it may be, often as I straighten and tidy my shelves, often as I sit at the counter and muse over volumes of thises and thats, my mind will query what you would think of a particular passage, whether your shop has this book or that, whether it is tiny and nookish or sprawling and spacious, whether…oh whether… You surely will think me a foolish old woman._

_Perhaps you will forgive my foolishness in this instance, though, as it will draw smiles from the gentle quietness you keep by your side. You see, as I was replenishing a particular bookshelf this morning, several volumes leapt from their 8__th__ story abode (yes, you'll be sure to point out that there are far more stories that eight…perhaps I should say 'tier'?…'floor'?) and closed themselves up in this box, declaring that they positively refused to come out until they had been sent to you, for the mutual enjoyment of Jessica and her dad. They were quite offended, you see, that they were not selected to accompany you following your first, though-it-positively-cannot-be-your-last, visit. (…your last so far?)_

_As to the volumes themselves, I think you'll find they're somewhere between Milne and Seuss…quite palatable, sweet and giggle-worthy…precious to that piece of every one of us where we are all still children._

_Don't think that I've forgotten my promise to look you up when I make my way to Philadelphia. You've assured that, for, despite my connections, I have not been able to procure a copy of your book anywhere.. This has been quite distressing to me, and quite the motivation. So, you'll be seeing me as soon as ever I can get away._

_Felicitations From a Literary Kindred_


	15. Chapter 14 Shel

_**A/N: **__This is the second time I've sat down to write a much longer chapter, and the chapter that came out was tiny…but finished. Maybe little chapters are what my muse requires to keep moving right now. That being said, though few chapters of PtP are shorter, this one is already one of my favorites. It's an affectionate tribute to the phenomenally brilliant Sel Shilverstein._

_Yes, I know._

_Chapter 14 - Shel_

Lisette was right. Shel Silverstein worked positive magic on his little "gentle quietness." In a remarkably and uncharacteristically conventional move, Jess had begun at what he considered the beginning - the first poem on the first page of text of _Where the Sidewalk Ends. _It invited him and his little girl to be dreamers…and _magic-bean buyers_, and promised the spinning of _flax-gold tales_. He smiled gently at his little girl's wide, wistful eyes. Yes. Lisette was certainly right.

They spent a good part of the day with Shel. They listened to Shel for a couple of hours that morning there at the counter. They listened to Shel between bites upstairs at lunch. They listened to Shel as Jess put her down for her afternoon nap on the couch upstairs. They listened to Shel after her nap…after he'd wiped the lunch dishes dry with a cotton dishtowel…after he'd gone back downstairs and started shelving books…a sentence or two between each book handed by little hands from a box to big hands that reached up to tall shelves that little hands wouldn't reach for almost another decade. They listened to Shel as a few customers came in and browsed…and stopped and listened…and smiled. They listened to Shel as the bell over the door jingled when Chris opened and closed it to turn the _open_ sign _closed._

Yes. Shel was magic…precious and giggle-worthy. Jessica seemed particularly tickled by the way _Runny Babbit _always got his mords wixed and his tang tongueled and she giggled all the more when her daddy's tang got tongueled trying to read the wixed up mords of _Runny Babbit_ . Jess treasured her little girl laugh. It never failed to bring a smile to his face, a dancing light to his eyes. Jess choked on laughter at _The Deadly Eye_ but was glad it was met with his little girl's puzzled frown. She didn't need a morbid sense of humor…not yet. He tried to contain himself…and turned the page.

A few of the poems struck a painful chord, if only a little, or only for a moment. _Two Boxes_ made Jess look down at his little girl, worried. Would she ever have children to play with? He never did. So many reasons for that. None of them applied to his little girl. Still. Would she have children to play with? He rumpled her hair and turned the page. Just the picture for _Us_ made a shiver go down Jess' spine. He skimmed the words, and without reading aloud, turned the page. He read _Wastebasket Brother_ out loud, but it made him feel sick inside for reasons he'd make sure his little girl would never know. The only piece of Shel that seemed to bother Jessica, though, was the one Matt went and dug up out of his room. It had belonged to his cousin, and his nephew, and half a dozen other kids, and only half the cover was left. _The Giving Tree._ By the end of the story Jessica's eyes were big and sad. Jess guessed that to see the happy in the sad maybe you had to be a grown-up. Maybe you had to love a kid that much. He rumpled her hair, and smiled with his lips, and set the book down, and held her tight.


	16. Chapter 15 Traditional Copycat or Lesson

_Chapter 15 - Traditional Copycat or Lessons Learned_

After the bell over the door jingled when Chris opened and closed it to turn the _open_ sign _closed, _and after they'd read every word of the books from the Book Angel…Jess discovered an oxymoronic truth. He couldn't get enough of contentment. He'd saturated himself with it, reading to his little girl _all - day - long._ And she'd loved it…every second. _Why should it end now?_

He had a hunch. It almost always paid to go with his hunches. It was Chris' turn to balance the books that night, and Matt had his editor's cap on, so to speak. Technically speaking, Jess was free to go home, have dinner, spend more time with Jessica, hit the sack. But he had another idea. He rummaged through his messenger bag, and with a flourish of the eyebrows towards Jessica, pulled out Luke's _gift_ _for him._ After all, there was a television and a DVD player upstairs. There wasn't back at their apartment.

"What say, you and I…us two…watch a movie?" he grinned at the little girl who sat before him with a face full of eagerness. She'd never watched a movie with her daddy before. He took her hand and they climbed the stairs. Before putting the first DVD in, Jess scrounged around the kitchen side of the room, pulling microwave popcorn from one of the cupboards, checked to see if either of the guys minded if he snarked the a couple of the TV dinners that were stacked in the freezer. Somewhere in his head, Luke lectured him about the kind of food he was feeding his kid. That path led directly to the mountains of junk food Lorelai and Rory always had for their movie nights. Jess was too happy at the moment to let the memory bring him down. He bit his lip and looked over smilingly at his little girl. _That might not be a bad tradition to copycat…not bad at all._

He scooted the coffee table up to the couch and put the TV dinners on it, popped the DVD into the machine, grabbed the remote, and got himself and Jessica settled comfortably on the couch. As expected, the story of the redhead with the springing braids and over-bright voice was absolutely ridiculous. It was giddy and goofy and…he looked over at his daughter's shining eyes and delighted expression…just perfect. A sigh of satisfaction and the peace of simple affection filled his lungs and slowly deflated them. He tugged her little, light, movable self closer so that her blonde curls nestled into the hollow beneath his shoulder, and pulled her into a side-by-side snuggle hug. Her big brown eyes darted up to his with a shy smile, but couldn't leave the antics on the screen for long. The merriment there caused the little girl to wriggle in enjoyment and her giggle filled the small room with its bells again and again. _Thank you, Luke._

"_What_ are you _watching?" _Chris moaned, peeking his head up the stairs. Jess swiveled his head to address him.

"Thought you were supposed to be doing the books," he rejoined evasively.

"With this cacophony in the background? _Seriously_ what is this?" he asked with distaste.

"What're you watching?" Matt asked briskly, maneuvering past Chris on the stairs and heading for the refrigerator. He paused a second, looking at the screen. "Oh, _Pippi Longstocking_. Terrible movie," he commented to Jess, scowling, "completely ruined the books…total disaster!"

"Books are always better than the movie-Do you mind?" Jess interrupted himself to wave Matthew away from where he stood stock still, blocking the screen.

"Oh, sorry," he apologized, resuming his trip to the refrigerator, from whence he procured the fixing for a tuna fish on bagel sandwich, which he accessorized with potato chips and a beer.

Chris had come all the way up the stairs, and stood, alternately scowling at the screen and at the Jess he swore he didn't know, sitting on the couch, flicking popcorn into his mouth, completely absorbed in this travesty on the television. He was the first one to join them on the couch. Matthew went back down to his editing. But long before the second movie was through, three pairs of converse shoes were perched on the coffee table, and Jessica, who had been relocated to her daddy's lap as the couch was getting rather crowded, lay back with drooping eyes and her head resting sleepily on Dad's chest.

She'd lost the battle with slumber before the reappearance of the cannibal king. Jess looked down with love on his face at the delicate features and velvet skin of his little girl, the flickering glow from the television lighting it softly. He plied her silken curls with his fingertips. The credits began to roll, and Chris reached for the remote, flicking off the television, and the two men stood, making their way down the stairs, grumbling at the waste of hours. Jess remained, still fingering the silken curls, still gazing down at his little girl's face… He pondered the unexpected lessons woven into one of the silliest kids' movies he'd ever watched.

-_Don't make a big deal of messes. They can always be cleaned up._

_-Cleaning can be as much fun as messing up - Seriously, without all the "spoonful of sugar" and its magical, impossible snapping things into place? Huh._

_-Always take the time to capture the moment._

_-If you teach your kid to believe in herself, anything is possible._

_-Don't show these movies to your kid too many times, or she'll think climbing on roofs and walking on self-made tightropes is a good idea._

_-No matter how much magic you have, homemade auto-gyros still won't travel far._

_-Her dad was an idiot. No treasure and no island full of cannibals who crown you king is worth leaving your little girl behind._

He shifted and lifted her carefully into his arms, paused as he exhaled a smile and pressed a kiss to the softness of her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, and he looked away, suddenly self-conscious and with a lump in his throat. When his eyes returned, they found a sleepy smile on his daughter's face, slowly melting as her eyes closed again. He squeezed her in his arms, almost involuntarily, then stood up and with careful steps and gentle movements, carried her down the stairs.


	17. Chapter 16 Nightmares

_Chapter 16 - Nightmares_

Jess sat at the card table, notebook in hand, pen poised. Ostensibly, he was working, but in actuality, he was watching the little girl across the table, as she bit her lip in concentration, intent upon the lines her crayon made haltingly across the page. Her little brows were drawn down, and her eyes fixed. Her tongue peeked out for a moment at the corner of her mouth, and then retracted. A ghost of a smile played across his lips.

The cell phone in Jess' hip pocket vibrated, making him jump and extract it, squinting at the caller ID. Jessica looked up at him, and he returned the look.

"I'll be back in a couple minutes, 'kay?" She nodded, and he stepped outside the apartment, closing the door behind him before he flipped open the phone and put it to his ear.

"What's up?" he asked, sans introduction.

"I've got news - big news!" Liz gushed. Jess was somewhat relieved. If she'd been calling just for small talk, he would have had difficulty explaining _what he'd been up to_ lately.

"Yeah?" He tried to sound interested. It wasn't that he didn't care about her, but with Liz, big news probably had something to do with craft booths, faire schedules, or jewelry…not exactly Jess' main interests.

"Guess!" she ordered giddily.

"No." These sort of games never ended well.

"C'mon! Guess!" she wheedled.

"Fine," Jess conceded, letting his sarcasm take over, "Did TJ get his hand stuck in the pickle jar again?" he asked, redefining the concept of _big news._

"No. Guess again!" she replied, undeterred. Jess sighed.

"Luke finally did shake TJ, and he _really did _disappear!" Jess said over-brightly, the twinkle in his eye almost audible.

"Umm…no. Try again." Her confusion muted her excitement, but only slightly.

"Come on, Liz. This is getting old," Jess moaned, and Liz piped in before he'd hardly finished the sentence.

"You're gonna be a big brother!" she burst out, unable to contain her excitement a moment longer. She squealed. He could practically see her jumping up and down from the other end of the line. Jess' jaw tightened as her announcement kicked him in the gut.

"That's old news, Liz," he growled, shutting in on himself rapidly, trying to shut out the unexpected pain. How could she think he would be happy about this?

"Oh, come on. Don't be that way, Jess," she begged, disgruntled, "I'm gonna have a _baby_!" Her words didn't have their previous excitement, but they still asked for his support…congratulations. But, that was something he wasn't ready to give - not now. His voice tried to be pleasant, but he couldn't drown the edge of bitterness. His words…well, they came of their own accord.

"So…you're gonna keep this one, huh?" He couldn't help it. It had to be said. He had to say it.

"Jess…"

He was sorry. And he wasn't sorry. He knew it wasn't fair. She didn't deserve it. Not really. With his adult mind, he knew that. None of it had been deliberate…most likely. He had to at least give her the benefit of the doubt. He was fairly sure now that her jerk-of-a-husband-number-who-knows-what had forced her into that abortion. He was the type.

That was the first baby. _Or was it? Was it the first baby? Or just the first one I was old enough to remember?_ He just knew that one day there was a baby in Mommy's tummy, and the next day it was gone. He couldn't remember how he knew she'd had an abortion. How on earth he knew about abortions at that age, he didn't know either. _How old was I? Old enough to talk, old enough to remember, young enough I hadn't learned yet how not to cry. _He remembered crying, his small fists pounding against her in desperation, the sobs choking his words as they came tumbling out: _"You killed-you killed-you killed my baby! You killed it! You killed my baby!" _She denied it over and over again. She was crying desperately. She was high. She was high because she had to be. Yeah-he must have forced it on her. Poor Liz.

The second time, he hadn't let himself get so excited. He wouldn't get to have this baby either. He wouldn't get to be a big brother. He knew that before Bill left, before she started downing pills. He still didn't know if she was trying to end it all, or if she just lost track of how many she'd taken. He remembered very clearly sitting in the hospital waiting room with Luke…scared. Luke had gotten there just after they wheeled Liz behind the double doors, demanding to know where his sister was…loudly and frantically fumbling around for the right last name. It must've sounded strange and suspicious to the receptionist. "_LIZ! Her name's Liz! You just brought her in for an overdose! There CAN'T be that many that you DON'T know who I'm talking about!"_ Poor Luke. He was shaking with fear and anger when his small nephew appeared at his side. "Jess!" He picked him up and his strong arms squeezed all the air out of the boy's lungs. But, oh, how he'd needed that hug - those arms! They'd sat there in the waiting room together. Luke had spent nearly the entire time with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, staring at the floor. Jess didn't mind. He felt the same way. When the doctor came out, they'd both jumped up, wracked nerves anxious for any news - dreading the worst.

"I'm afraid we've lost the baby," he told them solemnly.

"_Baby!_" Luke hadn't known. He looked as though someone had punched him. Jess bowed his head. He didn't cry anymore. Not on the outside, anyway. He glanced up again when the doctor continued speaking.

"I assumed you knew your sister was pregnant," the doctor said apologetically. Luke shook his head, lips set in pain, eyes on the floor. "I'm sorry." The doctor seemed at a loss for a moment. "Your sister is in stable condition now, but we'll have to keep her here to determine whether this was a deliberate-" he paused, glancing down at Jess before continuing, "_attempt - _or an accident. If it was deliberate, there's a good chance she'll be here for at least two more days." Luke nodded, wordlessly. "Does her son-" the doctor asked with concern, "does her son have a place to stay?" Luke nodded again, pulling Jess closer to him. Both Jess and the doctor knew where he would be staying.

The third time was the worst. Jess hadn't let himself get excited all throughout Liz's pregnancy. It wasn't until they were in the waiting room, and the doctor told them it was a healthy baby boy, that he felt his heart leap! He was a big brother! He was a _big brother!_ He'd never seen his mother look so beautiful as she did that night, holding her brand new baby boy, with such love in her eyes. And baby Corey was nothing short of miraculous. He had feather-soft wisps of black hair, skin that was a reddened dark olive with tiny bumps, as newborns often have, and eyes that were pale blue and wide in their glazed-over baby stare. Jess had never been happier about anything in his life!-

Jess shut the memory down there. It was too painful to think about. _"There was an unfortunate accident."_ Those were the words the social worker used when she brought him to Luke's. Going to his uncle's that time, he couldn't help but feel like he was the one that was dead. He tried again to push the memory aside - focus on the conversation with Liz.

"Sorry. That wasn't fair," he told her hollowly. "Congratulations. I hope you're happy." He meant it. As much as he honestly couldn't stand the thought of Liz being entrusted with yet another human life to care for, he wished her the best. He _wished_ she and this kid could have the very best. It didn't come out sounding that way, though.

"Why do you have to be like that?" Liz asked disappointedly, cut by his tone. "Why can't you just _be_ happy for me, for once, Jess? Really happy?"

"Really happy, Liz?" he shot back. This was asking a bit much.

"Yeah, really happy! I mean, I know you've never _liked_ kids, but-" she began. At these words Jess let out a derisive hoot of laughter, and then a sputtering exhalationthat was clearly scoffing. _Did she really know that little about him?_

"It's true. You never liked kids! Even when you _were_ a kid," she accused. "You didn't like Kylie, you didn't like Dillon, you didn't like Angela and Jacie…" she continued rattling off the whole litany of her exes' kids as _proof_ that he didn't like children in general.

"And _you_ think that means I don't like _kids!" _Jess snarled, eyes flashing at the typical Liz assumption.

"Well, yeah!" she flung, casually, as if the conclusion was obvious.

"I didn't _like_ any of them, because I didn't _dare!" _Jess blasted back at her, his words turning to bullets._ "_Because the _second_ I decided one of them was _worth_ liking, they were _gone-_just like all o' their daddies! All the good, the bad, and the indifferent! They couldn't _stand_ to stick around, so why should I give a _flying hoot_ when they _leave? _Why should I bust a gut to _care!_ _Jeez! We didn't care about each other! We were too busy trying to stay out of the way! Dodge the flying glassware! Drown out the screaming! Escape from the sleazy partying and all the drunks and tweakers and creepos that came with it! None of us lived in the apartments and rotting hell-holes! We lived on the streets, and in books, and in booze, and in whatever our chosen escape was from that living death! - You want me to be HAPPY for you, Liz! You want me to be happy that you're bringing another kid into the wreck that is your life? I feel SORRY for the kid, Liz…_I feel _sorry_ for them, and I feel_ sorry_ for you, and I-"

"How _DARE_ YOU!" TJ's voice boomed through the line. "Liz - your mom - Liz, calls _you, _to tell you that she's gonna have a baby! A baby! Hers and mine! She calls you 'cause she's happy! "Cause she _wants_ to tell you! And you _yell at her? _You make her _cry! I DON'T THINK SO!_ I - don't - think so - Buddy!" At this point, he started in on a blue-streak of profanity at a volume that made Jess hold the phone away from his ear. The sentiment may have been called for, but Jess wasn't about to stand there and listen on the telephone while anybody cursed him out like that. He was about to flip the phone closed, when the tide turned. "And if you think for one second," TJ continued, "that I'm gonna let you anywhere near our kid," he could hear Liz in the background _"TJ! TJ, stop! Give me the phone! TJ!_" but he continued, "then you are sadly, mistaken, my friend!" That one right there was the last straw.

"Right back atcha!" Jess snarked, and flipped the phone shut. He didn't much care that he had essentially told TJ that he had a kid too. It was TJ. He wouldn't catch on, and it gave Jess the satisfaction of saying it. He stood there staring at the phone with a hard look in his eyes and his jaws clenched so tightly together it began to hurt his teeth. He couldn't remember the last time he'd lost it on somebody like that. He couldn't remember when…but, he knew it was probably Liz…and it was probably when he was about seventeen.

Jess closed his eyes. He certainly hadn't meant to make her cry. He hadn't meant to raise his voice, much less scream. He hadn't meant any of it, and he'd meant every single word. _Ah, Liz! . . . It stinks. It really stinks. My own mother, and I don't want you anywhere near my kid._

He let out a deep sigh, opened his eyes, and entered the apartment. Jessica was standing by the table with her crayons. She kept drawing, only glancing up for a split second as he came in. Yeah, his voice had carried. She didn't look scared, she looked…he couldn't place it, other than the fact that it was other-worldly to see the attitude in a three-year-old. It was something akin to tact…almost an _I know you're upset, but I'm not going to pry. _Jess shook his head derisively at himself. Imputing that kind of intuitiveness in such a little girl was… He looked at her again. Nope. He hadn't been imagining it. _Freaky._

He sank numbly into the seat opposite. Flashes of glass-littered floors and the antiseptic smell of hospital rooms, screaming and shouting, crashes from the other room, soft lullabies, the feel of his mother's fingertips stroking his cheeks and his hair, the stench of vomit and booze, baby Corey's gurgling laugh… Why couldn't he just turn his brain off!

Smooth paper slid beneath his fingertips on the table. He looked up. Jessica's little hand pushed the paper to him. Her eyes spoke words he couldn't define. She slid a crayon as far as she could reach, gave it a nudge, and it rolled, stopping just short of the table's edge, just short of falling into his lap. He attempted a grateful smile, but it never quite lifted the corners of his mouth. It was alright. Somehow it didn't have to.

He picked up the crayon, blinked a few times, and tried to remember what one did with a crayon.


	18. Chapter 17 Walking Into Spiderwebs

_Chapter 17 - Walking Into Spiderwebs_

That particular nightmare hadn't visited Jess in a long time. But he should have expected it that night-after all the crud Liz had dredged up. Unlike most dreams, most of it played out in his mind like a movie, like a memory, stark and real and just as it had happened. He came home from school. The apartment door was open. That door was never open. There were things to hide - reasons for closed doors, locked doors, barricaded doors. Why would the door be open? He hesitated to go through it, afraid of what he might find on the other side - what he might face, but something drew him in…a vague horrible premonition. As he came through the door, he started to hear that noise. It was all too familiar - Liz' ragged, wrenching sobs coming from the bathroom. He knew what it meant. Steve was gone. That was a relief, but he always felt sorry for Liz, and he dreaded the meltdown that always meant her spiraling further into drunkenness and strung-out stupor, always triggered her unpredictable mental quirks. He made his way across the littered floor to the bathroom, bracing himself. Liz was there, sitting on the floor. The bathroom mirror was cracked in a spider web pattern, with a splotch of red blood in the middle. Afraid, he hooked down to see that Liz's forehead was bleeding…but she hardly seemed aware of the fact.

"Liz?" She looked up and began to cry harder. "Liz? Are you okay?" What a stupid question. Not only was she crying…bleeding…sitting on the floor, but there were pills scattered everywhere, a rubber tourniquet around her arm, and a discarded syringe on the floor. Okay? She was anything but okay.

"The baby…" she mumbled between sobs, "…the baby…" Jess froze. Why was Liz worried about the baby? She was high as a kite, and the baby wasn't crying, so _why_ was she worried about the baby? "Steve…he…he didn't mean to do it…I tried…I tried to stop him…I tried…" she bawled. He ran.

As a child, Jess was in no way prepared for what he found in that crib, but dreaming Jess, grown-up dreaming Jess, knew exactly what he would find. The shuddering gasp came just the same. There is no way to prepare the mind for the feel of a corpse-that cold, stiff…deadness…where there ought to be soft warmth. But this time it wasn't Corey. This time, when he reached the crib, he'd changed all at once into an adult, and the baby wasn't Corey…it was Jessica. Cold. Dead. He shrank back in terror, groaning and gasping for air.

The next moment he had Liz by the shoulders, shaking her roughly and frantically, screaming, "What happened! TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED! _TELL ME!-TELL ME!-WHAT HAPPENED!"_ Getting no answers, he threw her aside and turned to Jessica's stiff, cold, tiny corpse, his whole body shaking with pain and fear and rage, "_JESSICA!….JESSICA!…JESSICA-A-A-AHHHHH!"_

He awoke with one arm around his pillow, and the other hand clutching the fitted sheet in a balled fist, and one tiny hand comfortingly stroking his face. She looked down at him with terrified eyes. She was shaking. Everything in her body language displayed shrinking, and cowering back in fear, but he had called her name, and she stood transfixed to the spot. She was wiping his eyes where tears might have been if his ragged sobs had not been dry. He let go of the sheets, and wrapped his arm around the little girl, pulling her close to him, and spoke to her with a whisper of love and anguish, "_Ohhhhhhh_, I love you." His breath hitched in his chest, and he continued, "_oh, my little girl_…I love you."


	19. Chapter 18 The Trouble With Blue Skies

_**A/N: Chapter revised dramatically due to plot issues regarding Liz**_

_Chapter 18. The Trouble With Blue Sky_

Tagliotti wasn't his real last name any more than Romanz was his first. The man made an awful pun somewhere in the middle of the rather one-sided conversation about the fact that his wife always said Romanz should have been his middle name. "…eh? …'_Romanz'?_" he repeated to Jess with an elbow digging chidingly into Jess' ribs for emphasis, in case he had missed the joke. He hadn't. To the best of anybody's guess, including his own, Romanz Tagliotti was primarily Native American, though with a confusing smattering of Portuguese, Dutch, and Creole French. Even from the man's prolific stories, Jess still couldn't figure where he'd picked up the Italian last name. He claimed to speak several languages, which made sense, considering the muddied unidentifiable accent and often broken English. No knocking it, since Jess himself spoke just one, and couldn't seem to get the words out of his mouth right in that one half the time.

He'd come with a simple question, but his landlord was preoccupied, both with mending a screen and somehow simultaneously brainstorming on a sketch that seemed to indicate a plumbing issue, as well as with the stories of his vast and varied travels, which seemed to come pouring out of the elderly man's mouth the second anyone was in earshot. So, Jess just stood, Jessica's hand in his for quite some time, waiting for the man to take a breath so he could sneak the question in. Jess wasn't sure whether it was a mercy when his cell phone began to buzz in his pocket or not. It gave him an excuse to put a temporary halt to the fascinating but inconvenient stories, but meant that it might be an age before he got an answer to his question. He fished the cell phone out one-handed, so he could keep Jessica's hand in the other, and awkwardly flipped it open using the seam of his jeans, signaling to Mr. Tagliotti with an inclination of his head to excuse him because of an incoming call. Mr. Tagliotti turned his attention to trying to coax Jessica to talk, which was one of his other pet pastimes, which, once again, was endearing, but also made it difficult to conduct a telephone conversation.

The caller ID let him know it was Luke before his uncle's shuffled greeting. Generally, when Luke called, he called with a purpose and his voice sounded purposeful. In contrast, today, he mumbled…mumbled and made awkward small-talk. Jess could hardly hear what he was saying over Mr. Tagliotti's one-sided conversation with Jessica, but he could make out enough to tell that Luke was basically just beating around the bush trying _not_ to tell him whatever it was he'd called him for. Jess tapped his foot listening to the Luke-ramble.

"What's going on, Luke?" he said finally, trying to hasten the inevitable.

"I tried to get your mom to call you."

Jess cringed. If Luke stuck himself into the middle of things between him and his mother this time, things could turn very ugly. He had no doubt Luke would want him to apologize for upsetting his pregnant mother and making her doubt herself when it came to childrearing after she'd "come so far"…but that just wasn't something he could bring himself to do. He'd meant the things he'd said; and as much as he hated himself for tearing her down the way he had, a very large part of him couldn't help feeling she needed to hear it.

"She's…" Luke trailed off nervously. "She's going to have a baby."

"I know." Jess braced himself for the tirade that had to be coming.

"She-" Luke stopped. "Wait…you know? How do you know?"

That was a turn of conversation Jess hadn't been expecting. "What do you mean, how do I know? She called and told me. Isn't that what this is about?" He shifted the phone so that he could hold it with his shoulder, a scowl forming on his face.

"She_ called _you?" Luke sounded incredulous.

"Yeah…so…?"

"She said she hadn't told you - that she wasn't gonna tell you, otherwise I wouldn't have called. I figured you needed to know, but… She _did_ call you?"

Jess got a familiar sinking in his gut - one he hadn't felt in a long time. "Yeah, she did."

"Oh, wow…between that and the TJ thing, this is just…_weird._"

Jess tensed. "What TJ thing?"

"She said that he left when he found out she was pregnant-"

"He didn't," Jess intervened definitively, knowing good and well how defensive TJ had been of her, pregnant and upset, the day before.

"Wait-how'd _you_ know that?" Luke was audibly agitated.

"He was there when she called and told me." Jess stuck with simple logic. "Why did she say he left?"

"Because he _did_ leave when she screamed at him that he was gonna be a lousy father and kicked him out of the house! I convinced him to come home again, but… She didn't know she kicked him out!"

Jess was starting to hyperventilate and caught Jessica looking up at him. "Luke, I can't have this conversation right now." He saw Jessica frown.

"What? Why? Is everything alright?" Luke's voice changed from agitation and confusion to confusion and concern.

"This is something I need to hear the rest of, but… Look - I can't do this right now, Luke. I'm in the middle of getting something settled with my landlord, and there are certain things that I can't really talk about in front of a three-year-old." Heaven knows he didn't like saying that much in front of her, having the odd notion that three-year-olds were people too and didn't much care for being talked about as if they weren't there.

"Okaaay," Luke capitulated slowly.

"I'll call you when I put Jessica down for her nap."

"And…when will that be?"

"It'll…I call you, alright? I'll call you." Luke was being perfectly reasonable. More than reasonable, but the implications of what Luke had told him were starting to eat holes in his stomach and it came out in a bizarre kind of impatience and jittery nerves. He knew Luke's expressions well enough he could see the look his abruptness put on Luke's face as clearly as if he'd been standing in the room.

"Okay, I'll talk to you then," he said with the same hesitance as before.

"Bye."

"Bye." He flipped the phone shut, turning once again to Mr. Tagliotti. "Sorry about that," inclining his head toward the phone, "My uncle."

The old man with the leathered time-etched face, brown in a way that looked as if he'd soaked up all the sun it had ever known from boyhood until now, nodded understandingly. "Family," he said crinkling up his nose in distaste, "messy business!"

Jess chuckled appreciatively. "I wanted to ask you, 'cause I was wondering - am I allowed to paint my apartment?"

The old man tipped his head and set his toothless mouth as if considering. "What color?"

"Blue," Jess replied with only a half-second of hesitation, "blue and white." He'd clearly already made up his mind, which seemed to give the old man pause.

"What kind of blue?" His eyes drew keener, looking at Jess with something close to scrutiny.

"Like the sky." The old man frowned, not as if this displeased him, but as if he were thinking this over. "It's just…the dingy white is so…" Jess shrugged. "I want something to put a smile on my little girl's face…feel more like a home."

"You think lilla girls like blue?" the old man responded, puzzled.

"Well, to be honest, I'm not sure how well I could stand pink, and I didn't think you'd agree to it anyway. But, blue is like the sky. I think I could put a smile on my little girl's face with a splash of blue." Jess' eyes twinkled as he said this, hoping that there was no way his landlord could suspect what he really had in mind. He was quite sure he _wouldn't_ get permission for that…but simply changing the color…that he had a chance at. "Maybe a little green," he added, hoping he wasn't pushing things.

The old man shot him a look. "You'd have to paint it back to white again before you move," he told him sharply.

"Oh, of course!" Jess hastened to assure him.

Mr. Tagliotti continued to frown. "It's bending the rules…but, you can have your blue," he acquiesced. "Since it's for a good cause." The old wizened eyes flitted toward the little girl who watched the whole conversation with interest.

Jess couldn't help but wonder what she made of it. He thanked Mr. Tagliotti with a wide grin, swinging Jessica up onto his shoulders, which made her look astonished and then delighted, wriggling into place. Jess tipped his head to look up at her. "You holding on tight?" She nodded vigorously. "Okey-dokey, then." Addressing them both, "Then, we've got a trip to make to the hardware store." He held his hand out to Mr. Tagliotti, and the old man shook it with an expression that betrayed slight surprise, even as Jess nodded his repeated thanks, with warm, sincere eyes.

He turned and fumbled with the doorknob a bit, knees bent so he wouldn't have to bend down to reach it, and then ducked through the doorway so Jessica wouldn't bump her head. The old man's eyes followed them out the door with a joy and sadness that came of the fact that his wandering life and late marriage, and a dozen other factors added up to the fact that he'd never had a little one bouncing along on his shoulders…but…it was a sight he loved to see.


	20. 19 The Pinwheel Xylophone of Wonderment

_**A/N: My profuse apologies for the tremendous delay. Just to let you know, I completely rewrote the telephone conversation between Luke and Jess in the previous chapter. It had been creating a mental block for me for quite some time, because even though chapter wise, it was a relatively small revision, story wise, I had completely written myself into a corner. What I'd written couldn't have taken place the way I'd written it, and for some odd reason, whenever I tried to fix it, it turned into a snarled bit of plot-mess in my head. I won't promise that this will mean regular updates from now on, but at least it's gotten you another chapter, and my imagination has the promise of many more. Remember that reviews prime the pump of my creative juices. At long last, chapter 19:**_

_Chapter 19 - The Pinwheel Xylophone of Wonderment_

The rainbow fans of color swatches her dad spread out before her and then helped her to hold in her hand like a grand lady peering over the reds and yellows and blues held the little girl's attention for a short while. She made a pretty picture in her almost make believe, and for once Jess wished his phone had a camera in it.

An employee of the hardware store stepped up and offered helpful painting advice, answering his questions about flat vs. gloss, how many square feet a gallon of paint was likely to cover, etc., but this was dull talk for a little girl, and he let her wander a little as the store was small and relatively free of breakables. In the tiny space he could keep an eye on her with little effort.

_Clank!_ The metal step gave a hollow tone as her little foot stepped on it. Jess glanced up. _Clank! Clank!_ She wasn't climbing. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs, testing the sound of the stair as she tapped it with her foot, peering upward at the spiral steps that pin-wheeled up before her eyes all the way to the ceiling. Jess' lips twitched at the awestruck expression the little girl wore over something as mundane as stairs. But, he knew, and was beginning to remember more and more, how mundane things weren't in a child's world. Everything is seen for its potential.

"Where do the stairs go?" he asked the clerk.

"Oh…nowhere really. Just an upstairs office," the young man shrugged.

"May I…?" he indicated ascending the stairs with a glance toward his little girl and then upwards.

The guy shrugged again. "Don't see why not."

And so, Jess put aside the swatches and the talk of swatches and semi-gloss, and walked over to the foot of the stairs. He smirked and took two clanking steps up, extending an inviting hand to a wide-eyed, golden haired girl who looked at him as if he'd just stepped through the looking glass.

She put her little palm into his and her little fingers grasped hold. She clanked up the two steps and then two more, but then paused purposefully, little fingers intent, tugged softly for him to pause with her. He looked down quizzically at the little face peering unto nothingness with a calculating, eager expression. Jess noted for the countless time how like a little bird she looked whenever she seemed to be trying to figure something out. Jessica's head drew back, her chin tucking inward, head tilted just a fraction, as she took another tentative step upward. _Clank-clank._ Her fingers loosened their grasp, and Jess bit back a smile as he allowed her to 'hold the reins' on this one, taking a step upward at her silent bidding. _CLANK-clank. _She looked down at the steps and up at her dad, his lips still bitten back, but a look of sparkling affection and curiosity in his eyes. Her grasp tightened and she took a step upward, and then quickly back downward. _Clank-clank. clank-Clank._ Her eyes widened. Her grip tightened, but this time pulled him eagerly forward as she climbed eagerly, almost frantically to the top of the stairs, their feet a merry cacophony on the hollow, echoing steps. When they reached the top, Jessica was practically beaming, and, turning, led him back down almost as quickly as they'd come up - that is, halfway down. Then, she turned and wanted to go back up…no, down…no, up… Jess knew that at this point most parents would have been well-nigh fed up with their children's antics, but he couldn't help it. He was dying of curiosity about what was going on in her little mind! She had a reason. She had a reason for going up and down these steps. It was some kind of an experiment…or a… It was something. His head tilted in a strange half-cocked smile as he tried to puzzle it out. She, on the other hand, looked as if they key to the mystery - whatever mystery it had been - was unlocked, and she was reveling in the discovery. His lips parted as his mouth hung slightly open, still smiling, in wonder at this little paradox of a girl. What had she discovered? She now delighted in pulling her benighted father all the way from the very bottom of the stairs to the very top, and back down again, and back up again, seemingly without end. He'd be loathe to admit it, but Jess was beginning to get a little winded, and knew wryly that the muscles in his calves and thighs would be reminding him of these stairs the next day. His little girl, on the other hand, knew no such limitations. When they'd reached the bottom one of the countless times, he tightened his grasp in turn.

"Can we sit down for a minute?" he asked, nearly out of breath.

She looked up in surprise, stared for a second, and then shrugged her little shoulders, conceding. They perched on the bottom step together, and Jess let his lungs pump oxygen into his weary muscles.

"You like those stairs, huh?" he queried, lips twisted into a cheerful expression, eyes twinkling at the little girl with the play-mussed curls.

She smiled brightly, cheeks flushed, and her head bounced in a rapid nod.

He chuckled, reaching out to brush back one of the curls that had tumbled forward into her eyes and tuck it behind her ear. "How come you like them so much?"

She shrugged one shoulder, and he chuckled again, a happy, contented sound. After a moment she bounced up and tried to start up the stairs again without him.

"Oh-ho, no, you don't!" he responded, still chuckling, as he reached forward and thwarted her escape, pulling her onto his lap. "Long windey stairs, mean holding hands. I don't need my little girl tumbling down like Humpty Dumpty with me no better than all the king's horses and all the king's men!" he insisted seriously.

She sighed in consternation, but didn't fight him. When he was ready, the began their re-ascent Sometimes she would lead them all the way to the top, other times she would stop with seemingly random aborted ascents, partial descents, etc. looking all varying shades of surprised and delighted, though it seemed to Jess that they were just doing the same thing over and over. He'd almost concluded that she just liked the stairs…the up and down, the twisting. It was sort of like something you'd find at a playground. But… He shook his head. There was something more to get, and he wasn't getting it. Something that was making his little girl's grin beam like the sun.

The swirling ups and downs were slightly dizzying, and the sound was like a huge, hollow, xylophone in his eardrums… _Like a xylophone…_ Jess blinked, grinning at his daughter's intent face and bouncing curls. These weren't stairs to her. This was a huge musical instrument, and she was playing crazy scales and composing little up-and-down melodies to her heart's content. _Wow._

_She's amazing._

His tired legs felt lighter, and a part of him, every bit as much a kid as she was, urged him to go up and down these stairs with her forever. His heart was filled with helium_. Happy. Giddy with happiness. _He was lost in the moment and didn't want complicated, heavy words to spoil it, but something of his writer's soul sensed the metaphoric journey of discovery… Direction, destination, none of it mattered. Noting mattered but the wonder in his little girl's eyes, and living it _together._


End file.
